It's a Wonderful Life, Jack Bristow!
by mandylouise
Summary: Jack wishes he had never been born...
1. Chapter 1

AN: As it is that time of year, I found myself watching one of my all-time favourite Christmas films; It's a Wonderful Life. Yes, I know it's dreadfully sappy and old-fashioned, but it's an old habit or tradition, if you will, that will never fade away for me. I found myself pondering the movie, and found that there was a Jack story, lurking within. Actually, it was more that I thought it could be interesting to rewrite the story from the point of view of Jack. And yes, there is definitely an Irina version/sequel waiting offstage! I plan to post about every other day, in the least bit. Without further ado, It's a Wonderful Life, Jack Bristow!  
  
Oh yes, and please review this!  


  
It's a Wonderful Life, Jack Bristow  


  
**Chapter One:**  
  
Night fell over the bustling city of Los Angeles. The darkening skies marking the passage of yet another day. But this day, is quite unlike others; it is Christmas Eve. The warm California air deceives visitors to the city, the weather providing a very different feeling during the holiday season. While life went on, the approaching night began to bring people together. Families sit next to their Christmas trees, reading stories and singing carols, men and women finally relax after many long days of work, and people come together for a night of joy.  
  
However, amidst the native noises of city life and the sounds of warm, happy homes, full of life, a great number of voices rise up in prayer._  
  
I owe my life to Jack Bristow. Help him, dear Father,_ says a young reporter as he sits with his two best friends, sipping at mulled cider._  
  
Umm, God, if you're there, that is, well maybe I should call you your Holiness. Wait, that's what you call the Pope. Well, what I mean is, God, there's this guy I work with, Mr. Bristow, and he didn't look too happy when he left the office. Actually, he doesn't ever really look happy, but he looked especially not happy like the time he accidentally used one of my prototypes that I hadn't quite worked the kinks out of, and it didn't, ummm, work so well. So God, I'd really appreciate it if you could help Mr. Bristow. Maybe you could pull a Obi Wan Kenobi and like sort of tell him..._ blabbers another man, as he kneels by his bed, his mother watching him from the doorway.  
  
Another man, skating around an empty ice skating rink, tells the Almighty, _He never thinks about himself, mon Dieu; that's why he's in trouble._  
  
A bald-headed man mutters to himself, _Jack's a good guy, even if he is a crazy son of a b****. Give him a break, God._  
  
From the inside of a small glass walled cell comes the words, _I love him, dear Lord. Watch over him tonight.  
  
Please God. Something's the matter with Daddy. Please bring him back safely,_ prays a young woman, her brown eyes clouding with unshed tears.  
  
As the numerous prayers were heard, the heavens twinkled with the conversations of angels. One deep voice boomed, Hello Joseph, trouble?  
  
Another man's voice responded, a star flashing, Looks like we'll have to send someone down--a lot of people are asking for help for a man named Jack Bristow.  
  
Jack Bristow, said the first voice, Yes, tonight's his crucial night. You're right, we'll have to send someone down immediately. Whose turn is it?  
  
That's why I came to see you, sir. It's that inventor's turn again, said the man called Joseph, grumbling.  
  
Oh--Milo. Hasn't got his wings yet, has he? boomed the first. We've passed him up right along.  
  
Joseph pulled out a bunch of papers. Well that's because you know, sir, he's caused all sorts of trouble up here with his various machines and creations, he said, glancing through the numerous reports detailing the mishaps of the angel-in-question.  
  
Yes, but still, he's got the faith of a child--simple. Joseph, send for Milo.  
  
A small star flew in from the eastern part of the sky, and stopped. Twinkling, another voice began to speak.  
  
You sent for me, sir? he said.  
  
Yes, Milo. A man down on earth needs our help, said God, as he revealed himself to be the booming voice.  
  
Splendid! Is he sick? Does he posses unseen marks?  
  
No, worse. He's depressed and discouraged. At exactly 10:45 PM tonight, Earth time, that man will be thinking seriously of throwing away God's greatest gift to him.  
  
Oh, dear, dear! Not his hair!  
  
No, Milo.  
  
Oh, you mean his life! Then I've only got an hour to dress. What are they wearing now?  
  
Joseph smirked, planning to personally clothe the irritating angel in the latest trends.  
  
God shook his head. No, you will spend that hour getting acquainted with Jack Bristow.  
  
Sir...If I should accomplish this mission--I mean--might I perhaps win my wings? I've been waiting for over five hundred years now, sir--and people are beginning to talk, whined Milo.  
  
Ignoring this, God asked, curiously, What's that book you've got there?  
  
Harry Potter. It's supposed to be the latest rage down on earth.  
  
God raised his eyebrows. Well, Milo, you do a good job with Jack Bristow, and you'll get your wings.  
  
Oh, thank you, sir. Thank you.  
  
Poor, poor Jack, mumbled Joseph under his breath. Sit down, Milo.  
  
Sit down? What are... he started.  
  
If you're going to help a man, you want to know something about him, don't you? said Joseph in a patient, patronizing voice.  
  
Blissfully ignorant to the annoyance he was being, Milo answered, Well, naturally. Of course.  
  
Well, keep your eyes open, Joseph said, rolling his eyes.  
  
**TBC**


	2. Chapter 2

AN: I'm afraid this chapter is low on humor; I did a wee bit of a twist on the next part (from the movie), and you'll see how this event influences Jack's personality in the future. Although it's a little short, it is an important building block for the plot/background. Next chapter, however, I promise, will be much more light-hearted and funny.   
  
Please review! I'm always so suprised when people like my writing--I appreciate it so much to get feedback. Let me know what you think!  
  
**Chapter Two:  
**  
With Joseph's words, the stars fade in front of the angels' eyes. Joseph clearly sees something, but Milo, with his typical puzzled look on his face, could only see an indistinguishable blur.  
  
Where? I don't see a thing, he said.  
  
Oh, I forgot, Joseph smirked. You haven't got your wings yet.  
  
Oh, ha ha, Joseph.  
  
Now look, I'll help you out, Joseph said, calmly. Concentrate. Begin to see something?   
  
With that, the blurry view clears, and the angels observe a group of boys splashing around at the beach on a hot summer day.  
  
Why, yes. This is more amazing than _il dire_! Milo exclaims.  
  
If you ever get your wings, you'll see all by yourself, said Joseph in response, muttering under his breath,   
  
Oh, how wonderful!  
  
The boys all face the incoming waves, jumping as they roll in, crashing towards the shore, allowing the current to pull them along with the wave.   
  
shouted a tall boy with a head full of unruly brown curls.  
  
At the sight of his hair, Milo speaks up, Hey, is that him? Jack?  
  
No, that's his older brother, Alex, answered Joseph, again rolling his eyes. he said, pointing to a small boy watching the others from the safety of the shore, is your problem; Jack Bristow.  
  
A little boy?  
  
That's him when he was seven, back in 1959. Something happens here you'll have to remember later on, Joseph explained.  
  
The short little boy stood, digging in the sand with a piece of driftwood. He crouched down, spying a hermit crab, and poked it, watching as it scuttled inside its shell. The boy studied it closely, only looking up when he heard the shouts of the other boys. He looked up at the group, wistfully, and suddenly threw down his stick and waded into the water. The others continued their antics, throwing themselves into the waves and letting themselves drift along in the water. The little boy reached them, and decided to join in the fun.  
  
And here comes the scare-baby, my kid brother, Jack Bristow, shouted the older Bristow boy, Alex, as a towering wave began to roll in.  
  
I'm not scared, said Jack, petulantly.  
  
The rest of the boys joined Alex, shouting, Come on Jack! and Attaboy, Jack!  
  
Jack eyed the wave cautiously, the words of his mother, don't swim out too far now, Jack, echoing in his mind. But Jack wasn't one to back down from a challenge, and as the wave crashed down, he threw his little body head first into the wave.   
  
Minutes went by, and no sign of Jack was seen.   
  
Then, a fair distance from their original spot, Jack's head popped up from beneath the waves, and promptly sank back down again. The other boys looked at each other; the strong current was not a thing to joke about, and Jack was quickly being swept away from shore.  
  
Without a second thought, Alex shouted, I'm coming, Jack! and dove into the water and started to swim out to where Jack was struggling. Grasping Jack from under the arms, he felt himself being pulled out with the tide, and started kicking his legs to keep the two of them above water.   
  
At this sight, the other boys raced out of the water and over to the lifeguard station, panting as they told them about the other two boys who were swept up with the current. After searching for over two hours, the lifeguard found the Bristow brothers; Alex treading water as he held up his little brother.  
  
Jack's older brother saved his life that day. But his brother caught a bad cold which lead to a case of pneumonia. Cost him his life. It was weeks before Jack could even bear to get up out of bed in the morning, narrated Joseph, seeing the familiar look of confusion on Milo's face.  
**  
TBC**   
  
  



	3. Chapter 3

AN: Wow, reviews are lovely, hope some more will trickle in. Thank you Frogboy Lives and o.O, my first and only two reviewers. I haven't been able to see this movie yet this year, but it's such a great movie. Very sweet and sappy. I hope that you all appreciated my twist on the rescue scene. This chapter is a little longer, and there's another bit of a twist on the original plot of _It's a Wonderful Life_. And, with that, on we go to chapter three!  
  
**Chapter Three:**  
  
The image of the beach faded out, and a new one took its place--a busy street corner in Washington D.C., where a group of three men marched down the sidewalk, whistling and talking loudly and boisterously. As they arrived at a small shop, the men stopped and the tallest man, who had deep brown eyes and a cluster of errant curls falling across his forehead, extracted himself and stood in the doorway.  
  
So long, he called to his friends.  
  
Go to work, you grunt! teased one man, while the other shouted,   
Don't let those pathetic chicks drool on you this time!  
  
The man turned around and glared, he started to say menacingly.  
  
Relax, Jack; I'm only kidding, said the second man, a soothing element in his voice.  
  
Who's that? asked Milo, He seems like someone I've seen before.  
  
That's Arvin Sloane. He's quite the fan of yours, said Joseph, his lips pressed tightly together, disgust plainly showing on his face.  
  
Ahh, he is attempting to realize my genius then. Has he found my prophecy yet? I'm afraid I may have spilt some wine on it when I was writing it. I wonder if he will gather my creations. I did have a lot of fun leaving them around the world; see, if you look at the pattern it makes from our point of view, you can see that it makes a really cool connect-the-dots picture of a cow... he babbled until Joseph flicked him in the shoulder, and they both turned their attention back to the scene before them.  
  
Turning, Jack rolled his eyes and pushed open the door to the shop. The café was crowded with mismatched tables and chairs, a variety of people sitting with books and sipping at coffee. Jack walked to the front of the shop, shrugged his bag off of his shoulders and left it at an empty table nearby.   
  
Is that the same little boy? asked Milo.  
  
sighed Joseph, that's Jack. He's around 20, and he's working two jobs; one to help pay for his tuition at Georgetown, and the other, well, we'll get to that a little later.  
  
Jack rolled up the sleeves of his collared white shirt, and slipped on his green apron. He walked behind the counter and picked up the Magic 8 Ball that sat next to the register. Shaking it, he closes his eyes, whispering, Will I find a girlfriend? Opening his eyes, he turned over the ball, and read,   
  
he shouted, immediately turning pink for drawing extra attention to himself.  
  
He crossed over to the counter, where a woman was sitting, watching him. Laura Brown, a tall young woman with long chestnut hair and mocha-colored eyes, sat with an ancient, heavy book, discretely watching him.   
  
Calling towards the back room, Jack said, It's me, Mr. Fischer. Jack Bristow.  
  
Mr. Fischer, the manager, looked out from the door, and took a long puff on a cigarette that Jack didn't think contained tobacco.  
  
You're late man, said his employer.   
  
Yes, sir, responded Jack, ever formal and polite.  
  
Judy Barnett entered the café, and flaunted up to the counter, tossing her long, blonde hair and sitting next to Laura.  
  
Hello Jack, she said in a warm and friendly voice. Glancing at the other woman, she added, 'Lo Laura.  
  
Laura said with a nod of acknowledgment.  
  
Jack stared at the two women, his puzzlement apparent on his face. The two women had exchanged greetings and were friendly, yet it appeared as though they hated one another. Oblivious to the fact that both women were striving for the same goal, he turned to Judy, and said, Coffee of the day with cream and sugar?  
  
She was here first, said Judy, attempting to stay longer in Jack's presence.  
  
I'm still thinking, said Laura, You go ahead.  
  
he asked.  
  
Please Jackie, said Judy, in what she thought was a seductive voice. As Jack went out of earshot, she turned to Laura and whispered, I like him.  
Laura pursed her lips, How lovely for you.  
  
You're just jealous, Judy smirked, because he likes me better.  
  
Here you are, said Jack, returning to the two women, now glaring at one another, handing a styrofoam cup to Judy. She paid him.  
  
Open the door for me? asked Judy, with a look of feigned helplessness on her face.  
  
Open the door?! said Jack, unbelievingly.  
  
Judy let out a sigh, pretending to be long-suffering. As she exited, however, she missed Laura sticking out her tongue at her as she walked by.  
  
asked Jack, have you made up your mind yet?  
  
Yes, thank you. I'd like to have a café au lait, please.  
  
With sugar?  
  
I don't like sugar in my coffee, said Laura.  
  
You don't like sugar in your coffee? I think you may be the first girl that I've ever met who doesn't put sugar in her coffee. That's pretty impressive, Jack said, as he set to preparing her drink.  
  
she said, there's always a first time for everything.  
  
Jack turned on the coffee grinder, focusing on his task, as Laura leaned over and spoke softly into his ear, Guess you can't hear me, Jack, can you? Well, Mr. Bristow, I think we've got our roles reversed; you're doing my job; you've seduced me. She leaned back, and continued to watch him.  
  
I don't think I caught your name, he said, I'm Jack Bristow.  
  
Laura smiled, her grin spreading across her entire face, I'm Laura Brown.  
  
The two of them looked at each other, until Jack tore his eyes away, his face turning a flushed pink.  
  
**TBC**  



	4. Chapter 4

AN: This is such a fun story to write, I'm really enjoying it. And now that I think about it, I think I'm going to submit this for the December challenge over at SD-1, so I guess that means that I've got to get to work, as there's quite a bit to go. So, in other words, that means that my updates will increase in frequency, as in, more than once every other day. Which is exciting for you and for me! I suppose I'm on sabbatical from my other story, Letters. Oh yes, and this is an _enormous_ chapter; it just kept getting longer and longer, and I didn't have the heart to cut it down. I did manage to put off the dance bit until the next chapter though (just so you know I'm not skipping it!). Enjoy!  
  
**Chapter Four:**  
  
Again, the scene changed, showing a slightly older boy, poking around in the men's department of Macy's. He walked around, holding up different ties and looking at different shirts. Finally, he made a couple decisions and went to the dressing room to try on his choices. When he stepped out, he was wearing a dark grey suit with a blue-collared shirt and a navy tie. Standing in front of the mirror, he studied his reflection, brushing back his uncooperative curly hair, and attempting to look more professional.   
  
The scene froze with him in this position.  
  
What did you stop it for? asked Milo.  
  
I want you to take a good look at that face, answered Joseph.   
Milo looked confused, Who is it?   
  
Jack Bristow, Joseph said, sighing heavily with frustration at the incompetent angel next to him.  
  
Oh, you mean that kid who was working in the coffee shop.  
  
That's the kid.  
  
It's a good face. Nice hair too. I like it. I like Jack Bristow. Tell me, did he ever find a girlfriend?  
  
Well, wait and see, said Joseph, restoring the action in the scene.  
  
Purchasing the shirt and tie, along with a black bow tie, Jack left the store, spotting his friend Arvin who was waiting in his car across the street.  
  
Hey, Arvin! he called over to him.  
  
Hiya Jack!  
  
Arvin, I'm a rich man today. How about driving me home in style?  
Arvin steps out of the car, opening the door of the car, bowing, and placed Jack's purchases inside with mock ceremony.  
  
Sure, your highness, hop in. And, for the carriage trade, I puts on my hat, he added, slipping on a New York Yankees cap.  
  
Laughing, Jack said, My mother's going to kill you if she sees you in that hat, thinking of the fervent Red Sox fans that called themselves his parents.  
  
As Jack moved to get in the front seat of the car, he stopped suddenly, seeing Judy walking towards him, her hips swaying, a formfitting dress clinging to her body, blonde hair pinned back with pieces of hair framing her face.   
  
Good afternoon, Mr. Bristow, she said, breathlessly, giving him a sultry look.  
  
Hello, Judy, Jack swallowed, Hey you look good. That's some dress you got on there.  
  
Smiling faintly, Oh, this old thing? she said, smoothing the creases along her hips, Why, I only wear it when I don't care how I look.  
  
Turning, Judy flaunted on down the sidewalk, clearly realizing that Jack had his eyes glued to her figure. Crossing the street, she continued to saunter, attempting to hold Jack's attention, when an older man turned his head to stare at her, nearly being hit by a car as he stood, jaw open, in the middle of the street.  
  
Arvin stuck his head out of the window, looking at his dazed friend,   
  
Ummm, want to...  
  
said Jack, still staring absently down the street.  
  
Once Jack got into the car, the men set off and drove off to a quiet area of the city, where Jack's parents, the Bristows, lived in an old brownstone house. Tradition had it that Arvin and Jack would go to the Bristows' house for dinner on Friday and Sunday nights. Arvin's parents were always off traveling in Europe, or having dinner at their country club, or were otherwise engaged, leaving their son by himself. The boy had spent most of his life in the care of nannies and other hired caregivers. As the two men became friends, Jack often invited him to his parents' house, allowing the other man to have some kind of family life. Mr. and Mrs. Bristow gladly adopted Arvin as their pseudo-son.   
  
This Friday night, the two young men were getting ready to go to a formal at their college, which Arvin was trying to coax Jack into attending. After arriving at Jack's house, the two of them went upstairs to sort themselves out and get dressed for the dance.   
  
Mr. Bristow walked around the first floor, fussing over the Christmas decorations he was trying to arrange. As he carried two poinsettias over to the coffee table in the living room, his wife called to him, Thomas Bristow, don't you dare put those plants in my living room!  
  
But Mary, that's where we always put them! he said back, impatiently.  
  
The two adults began to argue over where to put the two red poinsettias, their annual argument returning just in time for Christmas.   
  
Suddenly, the ceiling began to vibrate and the married couple looked up, and then back down at one another. Loud sounds of banging and scuffling erupted from the second floor, where Jack and Arvin were goofing around. Mrs. Bristow sighed, and put the plants where her husband had wanted them, and turned her back to him, walking over to the stairs to yell at the boys. Thomas Bristow smirked at her back, and smoothed back his silver curls that his wife found so irresistible, following her to the stairs.  
  
Jack! Arvin! You're shaking the house down! Stop it! shouted Mrs. Bristow.  
  
Snaking his arm around her waist, Mr. Bristow whispered in her ear, Oh let em be. It's nice being down here alone with you.  
  
You'll be joining them if you keep this up. Arvin'll tear his dinner suit. Jack! Mrs. Bristow called up the stairs.   
  
If you had it your way, all children would be girls, he added, kissing her forehead, and then wandering off to the kitchen to serve himself some dinner.  
  
That's not true, and if if they were all girls, there wouldn't be any...Oh, never mind, she muttered. Remembering the two hooligans upstairs, she yelled, Jack! Arvin! Come down to dinner this minute. Everything's getting cold and you know we've been waiting for you.  
  
Okay, Mom, came from upstairs.  
  
Shaking her head in frustration, Mrs. Bristow started up the stairs, Mr. Bristow, meanwhile, smiled and pushed his food around on his plate, knowing that the two boys wouldn't give up that easily. Suddenly, a loud commotion was heard on the stairs, the boys making trumpet sounds.   
  
Down the stairs they came, holding poor Mrs. Bristow high between them on their hands. Bringing her into the dining room, Jack and Arvin deposited her gracefully into Mr. Bristow's lap.  
  
Here's a present for you, Dad, said Jack, a knowing grin on his face, identical to the look his father had just given his mother minutes before.  
  
Mr. Bristow leaned over and kissed her soundly on the lips, his wife shooting him a dirty look, and then kissed him back. Then she turned to the two young men, swatting the pair of them on the head, Oh, you two idiots! Jack, you take after your father! The two Bristow men looked at each other, wide grins breaking across their faces, and high-fiving each other. Rolling her eyes, she continued, Now, you and Arvin, sit down and have dinner.  
  
I've eaten, said Arvin.  
  
Well, aren't you going to finish dressing for your holiday formal? Look at you, Mrs. Bristow fussed.  
  
I don't care. It's Jack's suit, he answered, wandering into the kitchen.  
  
Friday night at the Bristows--I feel like I'm living in a sitcom, said Jack to his father, the two men laughing at the thought.  
  
Lord have mercy! Mrs. Bristow said, This family will be the death of me!  
  
Arvin stuck his head threw the kitchen door, Mr. Bristow, do you have any empty boxes? I'm going to take a couple things to the dance and I don't want them sliding around in the car.  
  
What things? Mrs. Bristow asked, cutting off her husband's response, her eyebrows raising.  
  
Oh, Mama Bristow--I'm chairman of the eats committee and we only need a couple of plates and some food.  
  
Oh, no you don't, Arvin. Not my best china--let's get you some paper plates, she follows him into the kitchen, leaving the Bristow men at the table.  
  
Oh, let him have the pies, Mother, called Jack.  
  
Jack and his father sat, eating at the table together, the two men almost the mirror image of one another, except for the silver hair and slightly aged face of the older man.   
  
Hope you have a successful time, Jack. Mom and I are going to miss you.  
  
What'd you mean, Dad? It's only a dance, Jack said, confused.  
  
Jonathan Bristow, don't tell me I've raised a fool, his father started, then changed directions, I know you're going on a mission this weekend.  
  
His son's brown eyes widened.   
  
How did you know Dad? he asked.  
  
Jack, I work for the agency too. Remember? a tight smile found its way on Thomas Bristow's face.  
  
said Jack. Forgot about that. He looked at his father, studying him closely, What's the matter? You look tired.  
  
Oh, I had another tussle with Lindsay today, the older man let out a breath of hot air.  
  
comprehension dawning on Jack's face.  
  
I thought when I was promoted, he'd ease up on my department a little bit, said Mr. Bristow.  
  
I wonder what's eating that old paranoid buzzard anyway? Jack mused aloud.  
  
Oh, he's a sick man. Frustrated and sick. Sick in his mind, sick in his soul, if he has one. Hates everybody that does anything better than he can. Hates me mostly, you too, I guess, Mr. Bristow shrugged.   
  
Jack opened his mouth to ask his father what he meant about Mr. Lindsay hating him and his father, when , Arvin and Mrs. Bristow came out of the kitchen, Arvin with a pie in each hand and balancing one on his head, while Mrs. Bristow watched him closely, torn between amusement and anxiety.  
  
Gangway! Gangway! So long, Mr. Bristow.  
  
So long, Arvin.  
  
Hey Arvin, got a match? asked Jack, a solemn look on his face.  
  
Very funny. Very funny, Arvin said, mock-glaring at his friend, who had cracked up, laughing his head off.  
  
Put those things in the car and I'll get your tie and jacket, said Mrs. Bristow, walking back upstairs.  
  
Okay, Mama Bristow. You coming later? You coming later, Jack?  
  
What do you mean, and be bored to death?  
  
Couldn't want a better death. Lots of gorgeous chicks, and you know how the girls go crazy over you, Arvin said, trying to tempt Jack.  
  
I hope you enjoy yourself then, Jack answered, clearly uncomfortable with the idea of a dance.  
  
I know I will; Emily's going to be there, Arvin smiled absently, thinking of his latest pursuit.  
  
Off to the side, the air was charged with Mrs. Bristow, who had returned with a jacket and tie in her hands, glaring at her husband, trying to get him to tell the two boys something.   
  
she whispered irritably, you promised you'd tell them about the you-know-whats.  
  
Oh yes, remembered Mr. Bristow, Mary and the drugs. He looked up at Arvin who was blushing as Jack teased him about some girl, No drugs tonight, you two, interrupted Mr. Bristow, his lips pressed tightly together, his eyes showing the insincerity behind his statement. I hate doing this, he thought.  
  
Excuse me Dad? said Jack, an overly-dramatic look of shock on his face, are you implying that we would do something so reckless and illegal?   
  
Arvin, his eyes wide, nodded his head, the pie wobbling, in agreement.  
  
Boys, I'm not implying anything. You know how your mother feels about drugs, Jack, said Mr. Bristow.  
  
Mrs. Bristow threw up her hands in frustration, Boys and girls and music. Why do they need drugs? And really, Thomas, I don't think you're helping at all.   
  
Her husband rolled his eyes, Sorry, dear. He got up and took the pie off of Arvin's head. Let's put this stuff in your car and get those boxes, Mr. Bristow said, making a quick escape from his wife, followed by Arvin who winked and said, I'm giving you five minutes to get in the car, Jack.  
  
Jack shook his head in amusement. He took one look at his mother, who was fuming, and made the rapid decision to dash upstairs and get dressed for the dance; it was never a wise move to stay in the presence of a fuming Mary Bristow.   
  
Five minutes later, Jack went back down the stairs wearing a pair of khakis, a navy blazer and the blue shirt and the bow tie he had bought that day.  
  
Mrs. Bristow, who had since sat down, looked up at the sound of footsteps, since Mr. Bristow and Arvin were outside examining his car for the hundredth time. She looked at her son and smiled, thinking to herself At least Jack has inherited his father's good looks to make up for Thomas's awful sense of humor that he also seems to have inherited.  
  
How do I look, Mom? Jack asked, brushing the hair out of his face.   
  
She stood up and walked over to him, fixing his hair so that the curls lay flat on his head. You look handsome, Jack. Now go get out there and save Arvin from your father.  
  
Kissing his mother on the cheek, Jack stepped out the door, and he and Arvin drove off towards the dance.**  
  
TBC**


	5. Chapter 5

AN: Thank you so much for the reviews, it really makes a girl want to keep writing to make the story work! It's so thrilling to have people review my little piece. So thank you to Sasori and Jcal4evr! I guess my words of the wise are these: every writer loves reviews; the big, the small, the in-between; to know someone out there appreciates his/her work is a lovely gift. To the point--a thousand thanks for your thoughts!   
  
IAWL is one of those Christmas films that I always end up watching at some point during the holiday season; I suppose it's one of those silly little traditions that you keep from your youth. It's quaint and sappy. And yes, I'll admit, at times, it wears on me and my patience. But I figured it'd make a nice Christmas story base that I could rewrite for Jack. Oh yes, and the song in this chapter was inspired by a version of it sung by Victor Garber that I just listened to (just to let you all know!).  
  
Seems as though I've had Milo stuck watching All in the [Bristow] Family reruns for quite a while now...but after this chapter and maybe two or three more (at least one of which will be posted tomorrow), Jack's more recent experiences and troubles will be revealed. Then, finally, the angel Rambaldi (haha!) will be booted from heaven to save our beloved hero.   
  
Enough babbling--here's the next part; enjoy!  
**  
Chapter Five:**  
  
The two men entered the undergraduate center, juggling a couple pies and stacks of plates between them. Arvin and Jack crossed the floor, weaving between dancing couples, to where the refreshments were sitting.   
  
Here you are, Jack said to the older woman who was overseeing the food. He turned around, studying the room; a DJ was spinning records on the stage, and people were milling about; some dancing, some talking, some just sitting at tables with friends. Several men were approaching a group of young women, giggling and laughing as they found a partner with whom to twirl around the floor. Jack shifted his weight from one leg to the other, feeling uncomfortable and out of place; women made him nervous--they always seemed to be whispering at one another, giving you funny looks, and getting upset about one thing or the other. Of course, he thought to himself, it could just be that I haven't really opened up to any of the girls I know because I'm too afraid that they'll reject me. Shaking his head, Jack looked behind him where Arvin was entertaining a small group.  
  
You all know my best buddy, Jack Bristow, Arvin said to a couple guys who were standing around the food. You'd swear I had tortured him; he looks like being here causes him so much pain, he joked, and added in a stage whisper, he's dreadfully scared and intimidated by women, poking Jack in the ribs with his elbow and shooting him a grin.  
  
Ben Devlin snuck up behind Jack, startling him when he put his hands on the other man's shoulders, saying jovially, Looks like our wallflower has finally got himself out into the sun!  
  
Losing his calm for a second, Jack swung around, and was delighted to finally hear a voice he recognized.  
  
Oh, oh! Ben Devlin! How are you? When did you get here? asked Jack, excited to see a familiar man's face.  
  
Oh, this afternoon. I thought I'd give the chicks a special treat--'Ben the Sex Machine' is back on the scene! Ben responded, a cheeky grin accompanying the words.  
  
How was your mission? Jack asked in a low voice, resisting the temptations to roll his eyes and smack his friend upside the head.  
  
Pretty good--old Ben the shadow Devlin is what they call me, after all, he winked. It was relatively simple; I just had to follow some Soviet diplomat around New York City.  
  
Glad to hear it, Jack smiled. But I thought they called you, Ben Lead foot Devlin, or Big Mouth, or The Joker, or The Yo-yo, or...  
  
Okay, I get the point! Ben sighed as Jack and Arvin cracked up. The three men had all joined the agency together, and Ben had been the token new guy for what seemed like decades in his department, ending up the butt of every joke. The nicknames the other agents gave him spreading amongst the younger men like wildfire. Even now, months later, after Ben had proven him self time and time again, the names stuck.  
  
An elderly professor walked up to Jack, his excitement at seeing his favourite pupil relaxing for once apparent on his face; laugh-lines crinkling around his smiling blue eyes and his bushy white hair sticking up wildly.  
  
Jack, I'm so glad to see you here; you don't come to these things often, do you? asked Professor Carmichael.  
  
Hello, sir. No, I don't usually, but Arvin tricked me into it tonight, Jack admitted. How are you, sir?  
  
Putting a pool under this floor was a great idea, Jack, said Carmichael. I was pretty impressed by the idea--best one we had in the contest, but of course you already knew that, he winked at Jack.  
  
Jack remembered entering the contest that the college had held, asking students for ideas and designs for the new rec building. He had figured it'd be a good thing to waste time on during his spring holiday last year, since he was the only one in his dorm staying not going away on some outrageous trip. After spending long hours in the library researching varying ideas he'd developed, he came upon an interesting solution; build the pool under the gymnasium floor.  
  
Saved us another building, continued Carmichael oblivious to Jack's wandering thoughts. Turning his attention to the other boys, he added, Now, Arvin, Ben, have a lot of fun. There's a lot of stuff to eat and drink. Lots of pretty girls around. Grinning, he excused himself and went over to speak to other professors who were in attendance.  
  
Judy Barnett comes into the scene and turns to face Jack. She is waving her dance program at him.   
  
Hey, Jack... she said, a saucy look in her eyes.  
  
Hello, Judy, Jack looked down at his shoes and started to count the seconds until she left him alone.  
  
Can't you even look me in the eyes when you speak to me? Judy mock-pouted, batting her eyes flirtatiously.  
  
I swear that girl put a transmitter or some kind of tracking device on him, muttered Ben under his breath, rolling his eyes at the scene in front of him.  
  
Arvin interrupted, trying to get his attention.  
  
Jack let out a breath of relief at the distraction, and turned to face his friend.  
  
Can you me a favor, Jack? asked Arvin.  
  
What's that?  
  
Well, you remember my girlfriend, Emily? he started.  
  
Oh, yeah, yeah, Jack nodded, thinking of the pretty young woman with the curly blonde hair.  
  
Well, she has this roommate, Laura, who doesn't have a date tonight, and Emily's been after me to find someone for her to dance with. You'll dance with her, won't you? Arvin pleaded.  
  
Jack blanched. Oh, well, I feel funny enough already, with all these people, he mumbled, searching for an excuse.  
  
Aw, come on. Be a sport. Just dance with her one time and you'll give her the thrill of her life.  
  
Aw, go on, Ben nudged him on the shoulder.  
  
Hey, Emily! called Arvin as he walked over to his girlfriend.  
  
Well, excuse me, Judy, he apologized, thankful in the least that he had escaped the woman whose sole goal in life was to seduce him. Don't be long, Arvin. I don't want to be stuck with some dreadful... he trailed off suddenly as he saw Emily's roommate; Laura Brown, the woman from the coffee shop.   
  
Laura was standing, talking to another boy, Bob, a glass of punch in her hand. For the first time that Jack has seen, she is wearing something other than the jeans and sweaters that she typically wore in the café. Instead, she was wearing a long white evening gown, her chestnut hair pulled up in a french twist, small tendrils of hair curling around her face. Jack watched her closely, noticing the long legs that peeked out from underneath the silk, privately wondering if they ever ended, and swallowing as he followed the dip of the low-cut neckline that gave him enough of a view that his imagination didn't need to work hard to...he pinched his arm, remembering where he was. Blinking several times, Jack tried to look at her in a more professional way, noting the assurance she seemed to gain from the open admiration of the boy with her. Then she turned.   
  
Caught in the act, Jack said to himself.   
  
As she turned, she noticed Jack's eyes for the first time. Her hand shook slightly, her poise abandoning her for a moment, as she starred at him.  
  
And the next thing I know, some guy came up and tripped me. That's the reason why I came in fourth. If it hadn't been for that... babbled the boy next to her, oblivious to the fact that her attention was not with him.   
  
Arvin poked his friend, who had stopped in the middle of the floor and was openly staring at the girl he had hoped to get him to notice. He grinned seeing the look in Jack's eyes--at least now he wouldn't have to keep an eye on him all night to make sure he didn't escape with the car. Arvin took Jack's arm and dragged him over in the direction of Laura.  
  
...that race would have been a cinch. I tried to find out who it was later, but I couldn't find out. Nobody'd ever tell you whoever it was because they'd be scared. They know... continued Laura's admirer, Bob.  
  
By the time Jack and Arvin reached Laura, Jack had finally snapped out of his trance.   
  
You remember Jack? Arvin asked Laura. Without waiting for a response, he turned to Jack, he continued, This is Laura. Well, I'll be seeing you then. And with that, Arvin, taking Emily by the arm, wandered off.  
  
stumbled Jack, feeling both incredibly nervous and stupid.  
  
Now, to get back to my story, see... Bob started again, attempting to steal back her attention.  
  
Without even looking at him, Laura handed her punch cup to Bob, and took Jack's arm as he led her out onto the dance floor.  
  
Hey, this is my dance! yelled Bob, indignantly, realizing that he was being ditched.  
  
Oh, why don't you stop annoying people? Jack shot him a dark look.  
  
Well, I'm sorry, apologized Bob. Then he realized what he was saying, and helplessly watched as the couple started to dance.  
  
Well, hello, said Jack, looking at her intently as he guided her in little circles.  
  
Hello again, Jack, she said, his name rolling off of her tongue. You're looking at me as if you didn't know me, Laura added, a small frown on her face.  
  
Well, I don't, not really.  
  
You've served me coffee hundreds of times, and Emily's told me about you at least a thousand more, not to mention all of the times you've absent-mindedly bumped into me in the library as you wandered around reading some book, she said without stopping for a breath.  
  
asked Jack, still staring at her.  
  
she confirmed, starting to smile at the man's obvious distraction.  
  
Uh-uh. That was a studious girl named Laura Brown who drank her coffee without sugar. That wasn't you, Jack mentally smacked his head. __ he thought. _I sound really stupid. Bet she can't wait to get rid of me...this always happens to me with girls..._ he continued, when a whistle was blown and the music stopped, interrupting his fretful thoughts.  
  
The lights focused on Arvin, who was standing next to the DJ, microphone in hand, blatantly loving the authority and attention.  
  
Attention--attention--attention...and now the big swing dance contest! The prize, you ask? The new Rolling Stones album! Those not tapped by the judges will remain on the floor. Let's go!  
  
A trumpet trilled on the record, and a quick, light beat started as the music started and couples began dancing once more, Jack and Laura staring at each other.  
  
I'm not very good at this, warned Jack.  
  
Taking his hands, she said, Neither am I.  
  
Okay--what can we lose? he took her right hand and put his left hand lightly on her waist, smiling at her, albeit a bit nervously.  
  
They started to dance, slowly at first, then speeding up. As they became more confident together, Jack spun Laura out, letting her twirl back in, and tried different complex moves, clearly enjoying one another's company.  
  
Leaning against the railing around the dance floor, Bob stood, looking daggers at Jack. Gerard, a young man who was slowly puffing at a hand-rolled cigarette, wandered over towards him. Bringing with him a cloud of sickly-sweet smoke, he nodded at Bob, saying, What's the matter, man--jealous? Don't be down, man. Chill, peace.   
  
Bob looked around, unsure of who the other man was speaking to, finally realizing it was him.   
  
Yeah, you man. Did you know there's a swimming pool under this floor? And did you know that button behind you causes this floor to open up?  
Bob shook his head.  
  
Well, now you do. And did you further know that Jack Bristow is dancing right over that crack? And I've got the key?   
  
Staring at the silver key, Bob didn't give it a second thought, and took the key, turning the switch. The floor began to part in the middle, each half sliding under the bleacher seats, revealing a lighted swimming pool.  
  
Pandemonium erupted: dancers began to scream as they tried to get off, others were so engrossed in dancing that they continued at top speed, while the professors started to scurry off.   
  
Jack and Laura were so busy dancing and talking to one another that they didn't notice the floor opening. The spotlight from the stage focused on them, and mistook the screams they heard for cheers.  
  
They're cheering us, laughs Jack. We must be good.  
  
The crowd watched closely as Jack and Laura continued to dance, moving backwards and backwards until finally, they reached the edge of the floor and fell into the pool below.  
  
Spluttering, Jack surfaced, and took Laura and they tried to continue their dance. Laura laughed hysterically, and Jack put on a mock-serious look, pretending to be focused on their dance. The crowd went wild--cheering them, clapping, whistling--some of the crowd even leapt into the pool. Professor Carmichael shook his head in amusement at his student, and took off his shoes, diving in and joining in the fun.  
  
  
  
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *  
  
  
  
Jack and Laura walked down a tree-lined residential street, the stars twinkling in the moonlight of the unusually warm winter night. The two of them made quite the odd couple; Jack dressed in a jersey sweater and oversize football pants that kept sliding down his hips, Laura in an old white bath robe. Each of them carried their wet clothes in a bundle, a trail of dripping water following behind them. Despite the awkward clothes, the two of them were glowing, happiness on their faces as they sung together:  
  
I'll be home for Christmas; you can count on me. Please have snow and mistletoe and presents on the the tree. Christmas Eve will find me, where the love-lights gleam. I'll be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams.  
  
Perfect harmony, Jack took her hand without thinking at the end of the song.  
  
she said, looking down at their interlocked hands.  
  
And I told Arvin I thought I'd be bored to death, Jack laughed at the thought, swinging their hands. You should have seen the commotion in that locker room. I had to knock down three people to get this stuff we're wearing here. Here, let me hold your dress for you.  
  
He took the bundle of clothes from Laura, carrying it for her, and they stopped and looked at each other, their eyes roaming freely.  
  
Do I look as funny as you do? asked Laura, giggling.  
  
I guess I'm not quite the football type, Jack smiled sheepishly. You, though...look wonderful. You know, if it wasn't me talking I'd say you were the prettiest girl in town.  
  
The corners of Laura's mouth turned up, Well, why don't you say it?  
  
I don't know, Jack said quietly, looking down at his feet. Maybe I will say it.   
  
The two of them walked in silence for a minute, when Jack changed the subject.   
  
How old are you anyway? he asked.  
  
  
  
  
  
What? Am I too young or too old? she asked worriedly.  
  
Oh no. Same age as me. Just right. Your age fits you. Yes, sir, you look a little older without your clothes on, Jack said.  
  
Laura stopped suddenly and looked at him curiously.   
  
Jack's face turned red, and started talking quickly to cover his embarrassment, I mean, without a dress. He sped up, trying to work his way out of the hole he was digging, You look older...I mean, younger. You look just...  
  
In his confusion, Jack stepped on the end of the belt of Laura's bath robe, which was trailing along behind her. She gathered the robe around her, and looked pointedly at him.  
  
stuttered Jack.  
  
Holding out her hand, she stuck up her nose, pretending to be royalty, her twinkling eyes the only sign that she wasn't upset, Sir, my train, please.  
  
Jack let out a sigh of relief, glad that she wasn't angry with him for his clumsiness and stupid words.   
  
A pox upon me for a clumsy lout, Jack slipped into character, bowing lowly.  
  
He picked up the belt and threw it over her arm.   
  
he grinned, your caboose, my lady.  
  
You may kiss my hand, Laura said with a little smile.  
  
  
  
He looked down at the hand he was holding, and knelt down, placing a light feathery kiss upon her knuckle.  
  
The two of them stared at each other, Jack started, Hey--hey, Laura...  
  
A worried look passed over her features, and she turned away from him, once again singing I'll be Home for Christmas.  
  
I'm dreaming tonight, of a place I love, even more than I usually do... she started.  
  
Jack looks after her, then up at the sky, catching a streak of light pass across the heavens.   
  
Hey, wait up, Laura! he called, watching as she walked back towards him. I just saw a shooting star!  
  
Oh, did you?  
  
Yeah. Now, you're supposed to make a wish; whatever you want the most, and it'll come true.  
  
Make a wish Jack.  
  
He closes his eyes tightly, his lips barely moving, then opens them again, smiling.  
  
Okay, done.  
  
Curious, Laura asked, What'd you wish, Jack?  
  
Well, if I told you, it might not come true, he teased. Then, I guess there's no harm in telling you; I wished that tonight wouldn't end, he said, looking at her tenderly, his brown eyes soft.  
  
As he spoke, Laura listened intently. With the revelation of his wish, she watched the skies, waiting for her chance at a wish, feeling Jack's eyes on her. A falling star passes above her, a tail of light shinning behind it. She smiled, and closed her eyes, making a wish much like she watched Jack do.  
  
Hey, you saw one, Jack said softly. What'd you wish, Laura?  
  
Laura looked at him, desire in her eyes, and stood gazing at him hungrily. Then she turned, suddenly and shuffled off down the street, once again picking up the song as she went, leaving Jack to hurry after her.  
  
Together they went back to singing, I'll be home for Christmas, with Jack ending the chorus with the question, What'd you wish for when you saw that star?  
  
Oh, no, she shook her head stubbornly.  
  
Come on, tell me, begged Jack.  
  
If I told you it might not come true, Laura said quietly.  
  
What is it you want, Laura? What do you want? You want the moon? Just say the word and I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down. Hey, that's a pretty good idea. I'll give you the moon, Laura.  
  
I'll take it. And then what? she whispered, her eyes becoming lost in his.  
  
Well, then you could swallow it and it'd all dissolve, see? And the moonbeams'd shoot out of your fingers and your toes, and the ends of your hair, he paused, noticing how close their faces were, and started to turn faintly pink. Am I talking too much? he asked, smiling shyly at her, looking her straight in the eyes.  
  
A voice shouted down at them, Yes!! Why don't you kiss her instead of talking her to death?  
  
Startled, Laura and Jack looked up at her building; Laura's roommate, Emily, had her head stuck out the window and was watching them. Other heads popped out of the windows; revealing the fact that all of the girls on Laura's hall were watching them.  
  
I'm sorry about the audience, Jack, Laura said quietly.   
  
Smiling, Jack yelled up to Emily, How's that?  
  
Why don't you kiss her instead of talking her to death? she shouted back, joined by a chorus of agreeing girls.  
  
Want me to kiss her, huh? he asked.  
  
said one girl, rolling her eyes. The girls closed their windows and left Laura and Jack alone outside.   
  
Hey, hey, hold on, Jack yelled. Hey ladies, come on back out here and I'll show you some kissing that'll make you want to leave your boyfriends! What are you... he continued, realizing that he was making a scene, but strangely not caring.  
  
As Jack shouted up at her roommate and friends, Laura, feeling a little embarrassed that her friends were spying on them, attempted to dash to the door before things got any worse. However, she didn't realize that Jack was once again standing on the belt of her bath robe, and so as she ran, her robe slipped off.  
  
This got Jack's attention.  
  
Jack looked around anxiously.  
  
He dropped his bundle of clothes and picked up Laura's robe, studying it, then scanned the area for any sign of her. Jack's forehead wrinkled, his worry showing on his face that he couldn't see her anywhere.  
  
Okay, I give up. Where are you? asked Jack.  
  
Laura poked her head out of the nearby bushes, crouching down with her arms wrapped around her, shivering amongst the leaves.  
  
Over here in the bushes, came a voice.  
  
Jack walked over to the bush. Here you are, he said. Just as he was about to throw the robe, he was struck by a thought, Wait a minute. What am I doing? This is a very interesting situation.  
  
Please give me my robe, she said.  
  
Hmm...A man doesn't get in a situation like this every day, Jack mused.  
  
I'd like to have my robe, said Laura impatiently.  
  
Not me, anyway, continued Jack.  
  
Laura rustled and thrashed around in the bushes, she squeaked.  
  
said Jack, not missing a beat. This requires a little thought here.  
  
Jonathan Bristow! Give me my robe right this instance! Laura yelled, traces of anger appearing in her voice.  
  
I've heard about things like this, but I've never...  
  
Interrupting his thoughts, Laura scolded him, Shame on you. I'm going to tell your mother on you.  
  
Oh, my mother's way up the corner there, a grin finding its way on Jack's face.  
  
I'll call the police, Laura said desperately.  
  
They're way downtown. They'd be on my side, too.  
  
I'm going to scream! threatened Laura.  
  
Maybe I could sell tickets. Let's see. No, the point is, in order to get this robe...I've got it! I'll make a deal with you, Laura, said Jack excitedly, a wicked glint in his eyes.  
  
Suddenly, headlights flashed nearby on the street, a car driving at breakneck speeds pulling up next to them, Arvin at the wheel, and Ben beside him.   
  
Jack! Jack! Come on, quick! Your father's been shot! shouted Ben.  
  
Jack's eyes instantaneously widened. Laying Laura's robe over the bush, he absently said, Laura...Laura, I'm sorry, I've got to go, and walked over towards the car in a daze.  
  
Come on, Jack, let's hurry, called Arvin.  
  
As the car drove off, Laura, now wearing the robe, rose up from the bush and followed the car with her eyes.  
**  
TBC**   



	6. Chapter 6

AN: I love writing this story...I can't help but want to update all the time! Of course, I'm nearing the spot where I don't have things already prepared...hmmm...oh well. Well, thanks Jcal4evr for reviewing so swiftly! Sydney won't be making an appearance for about three more chapters; I think Chapter Ten will have baby Sydney. Anyways, enjoy reading!**  
  
Chapter Six:**  
  
There were about twelve directors seated around long table, each looking formidable in their dark suits and ties, little emotion showing on their faces. They were the substantial members of the CIA; Dr. Campbell, the director of this division of the CIA, a representative from the President, Kenneth Bristow, Jack's uncle, as well as a number of other high-ranking men, including Paul Lindsay who was prominently seated amongst them, his son, Bob, beside his father's wheel chair. Ben Devlin and Jack were also seated among the directors, calmly assessing the men in the room. Each man had a stack of folders and papers before them, on which they have been reporting, along with individual reports for each of them to review.  
  
I think that's all we'll need you for, Jack. I know you're anxious to make it back to your mother's, said Dr. Campbell.  
  
Arvin's waiting downstairs, Jack said, rising from his seat.  
  
I want the Board to know that Jack gave up field duty to help straighten things out here these past few months. Good luck to you when you return to school and to the field, Jack.  
  
Jack nodded to the board.  
  
Dr. Campbell looked back at the board, Now we come to the real purpose of this meeting--to appoint a successor to our dear friend, Thomas Bristow.  
  
Mr. Chairman, I'd like to get to my real purpose, Paul Lindsay interjected.  
  
Wait just a minute now, the representative from the President interrupted.  
  
Wait for what? I claim this department is not necessary to the agency. Therefore, Mr. Campbell, I make a motion to dissolve this department and turn its assists and liabilities over to the receiver, demanded Lindsay.  
  
Angrily, Kenneth Bristow interjected, Jack, you hear what that bastard... He stopped, choosing instead to shoot the trademark Bristow glare at Paul Lindsay.  
  
Dr. Campbell, it's too soon after Thomas Bristow's death to discuss chloroforming Research and Development, said the President's man.  
  
Thomas Bristow died three moths ago. I second Mr. Lindsay's motion, commented another man.  
  
Very well. In that case I'll ask the two executive officers to withdraw, Dr. Campbell gestured to the door.  
  
As Jack and Ben started to collect their papers and leave the table, Dr. Campbell rose.  
  
But before you go, I'm sure that the whole board wishes to express its deep sorrow at the passing of Thomas Bristow.  
  
Thank you very much, Jack smiled sadly.  
  
It was his faith and devotion that are responsible for this department, added Dr. Campbell.  
  
I'll go further than that. I'll say that to the President, Thomas Bristow was the Department of Research and Development.  
  
The room went silent. Everyone looked at Lindsay in surprise.  
  
Ben, trying to control himself, spluttered, Oh, that's fine, Lindsay, coming from you, considering that you probably drove him to his grave. Jack put his hand on his friend's shoulder, trying to prevent him from making a scene.  
  
Thomas Bristow was not a business man. That's what killed him. Oh, I don't mean any disrespect to him, God rest his soul. He was a man of high ideals, so-called, but ideals without common sense can ruin a man in this agency. Lindsay picked up a stack of papers from the table, Now, take this mission here to Leningrad...the one to send an agent to go on a deep cover assignment and join the KGB. You know...I happen to know my department canned this mission, but word of the mission comes here and they send an agent to Russia without a second thought. Why?  
  
Well, I handled that, Mr. Lindsay, Jack spoke up, mildly. You have all the papers there. The research, documentation, reports. And as you can see, the mission has been highly successful thus far. I can personally vouch for the character of our asset.  
  
A friend of yours, Lindsay said, sarcastically.  
  
Yes, sir, Jack nodded.  
  
You see, if you shoot pool with some agent in this department, you can come and do whatever you like. What does that get us? A careless, hasty job instead of a precise and exact performance. There's too much worry about dreams and ideas, and not enough concern about furthering the political objectives of this country. All because a few starry-eyed dreamers like Thomas Bristow stir people up and fill their heads with a lot of impossible ideas. Now, I say... Lindsay lectured.  
  
At that, Jack put down his coat and went around to the table, incensed by what Lindsay was saying about his father.   
  
Just a minute--just a minute. Now, hold on, Mr. Lindsay. You're right when you say my father didn't always follow party line, and that he constantly refused to cater to the politicians. I know that. Why he ever joined this department, I'll never know. But neither you nor anybody else can say anything against his character, because his whole life was...why, in the thirty-five years since he and his brother Kenneth joined the agency, he never once thought of himself. Isn't that right, Uncle Ken? He didn't save enough money to send me to school, and he even went back to field duty the same week he buried my brother. Just to serve his country. He did help a few people escape death and torture, through his projects, Mr. Lindsay. And what's wrong with that? Why...here, you're all intelligent men. You knew my father. How many different people did my father help over the thirty-five years he was with the agency? Jack looked around at the directors. Doesn't that mean anything? Don't we care about the lives we've saved? You...you said...what'd you say just a minute ago? he paused. Oh yes, the Leningrad mission; Gift Horse.' You wanted them to wait and determine all possible problems that could arise. Meanwhile the time window was closing, and you were stringing them along. Wait! Wait for what? Until the KGB sent over their own agents to infiltrate the CIA? Until the country was full of Soviet spies? Do you want to see that happen? Just remember this, Mr. Lindsay, that these missions you've rejected, they've been picked up by this department and others, and have all been successful. Well, is it too much to want to protect the country we all love? To take risks? To prevent the needless loss of human lives? Anyway, my father didn't think the cost was too high. People were human beings to him, but to you, a warped, frustrated old man, they're cattle. Well, in my book, he died a much richer man than you'll ever be!  
  
I'm not interested in your book. I'm talking about Research and Development, Lindsay responded.  
  
I know very well what you're talking about. You're talking about something you can't get your fingers on, and it's galling you. That's what you're talking about, I know, Jack said. Turning back to the board, he continued, Well, I've said too much. I...you're the decision-makers here. You do what you want with this thing. Just one thing more, though. This agency needs this measly one-horse department if only to have some place where people can come without crawling to Lindsay. Come on, Ben!  
  
Jack left the room, followed by a jubilant Ben. Approaching Dr. Campbell, Kenneth Bristow also excused himself for a moment. Lindsay's face turned grim with hatred, the "frustrated old man" remark, gall in his veins.  
  
Sentimental hogwash! I want my motion... Lindsay started, but was interrupted by a loud babble of talk, as the directors took up the argument.  
  
Outside in the corridor, Jack, visibly shaken, was busy with his bag, his papers, his worry about the outcome of the meeting showing plaintively on his face. Dissolving the department could alter his plans. As he paced back and forth, Ben followed him around, chattering excitedly.  
  
Boy, oh, boy, that was telling him, Jack, old boy, Ben said gleefully. You shut his big mouth. Wish I could have gotten that on tape to show Arvin.  
  
What's going on? Sounds like a lot of yelling in there, Jack pointed to the conference room, addressing his uncle.  
  
Kenneth explained, Well, looks like after twenty-five years, the agency is dismantling the Research and Development department, he sighed. It's all easy come, easy go to them. And now, Paul will have what he wanted; complete control over the creation of all future plans and projects.  
  
All three men looked at their feet.  
  
You still want me to hang around, Jack? asked Arvin stepping out of the elevator and walking over to the group of men.  
  
Jack looked at his watch, Yeah, I'll be right down.  
  
Hey, you're going to be late. You're a week behind in school already. Go on home, Jack, said Ben.  
  
Jack looked at the conference room again, I wonder what's going on in there?  
  
Oh, never mind. Don't worry about that, Ben shrugged. They're getting rid of the department. So what? I'll be reassigned somewhere. I'm only twenty.  
  
Arvin corrected absently.  
  
Ben glared at Arvin, then looked back at Jack, Go on--go on. Hey, look, you gave up your position as a field agent, now you don't want to screw up college too, do you?  
  
At that moment, Dr. Campbell came walking out of the conference room, smiling calmly at the group in the corridor.  
  
Jack, Arvin, Ben, Kenneth, he nodded at each man. There's good news for you; they voted Lindsay down. The Research and Development department will stay separate from Lindsay's department, he smiled, shaking Jack's hand in congratulations.  
  
But they've got one condition--only one condition, started Dr. Campbell.  
  
What's that? Jack asked.  
  
Well, that's the best part of it, answered Dr. Campbell. They've appointed Jack here as director to take his father's place.  
  
Oh, no! But, Uncle Ken... Jack began.  
  
interrupted Kenneth Bristow, speaking quietly and calmly, I have my own department. I can't very well leave it.  
  
Dr. Campbell, now let's get this thing straight, said Jack firmly. I'm leaving. I'm leaving right now. I'm going to my mother's house. Then I'm going back to field duty, and I'm going to finish college. Why not Ben or Arvin here?  
  
But, Jack, they'll vote with Lindsay otherwise, said Dr. Campbell.**  
  
TBC**  
  
  



	7. Chapter 7

AN: First of all, thank you, as always, for your reviews! It's great to have someone appreciate your work! Anyways, I really didn't like the last chapter I wrote very much, but I suppose it was one of those necessary bits. Oh well. This chapter, however, is much more lighthearted and amusing. And of course, it's quite long as well! Hope you all like it!  
  
**Chapter Seven:**  
  
The same stars that were twinkling earlier began to sparkle once again in sync with the voices echoing in heaven.  
  
I know. I know. He took the position, said Milo.  
  
That's right. Not only that, but he threw his entire being into the job. No one could ever say that Jack Bristow couldn't get a job done, continued Joseph.  
  
Yes, but what happened to Jack? asked Milo  
  
Silence. A beat.   
  
Jack took the job.  
  
Yes, I know that, Milo started.  
  
And he became a workaholic.  
  
Oh really? Now he didn't give himself a bunch of grey hair, did he? Or worse, Milo gasped, he didn't start loosing his hair?  
  
Lord have mercy, Joseph cast his eyes above, Forgive me for whatever sin I have committed to merit such punishment.  
  
Milo looked confused.  
  
Never mind.  
  
The two angels looked once more at the continuing display of Jack's life. Time had clearly passed, and Jack was waiting in an airport with Ben. Ben was happily munching away at a bag of peanuts, sitting on a baggage cart, while Jack paced up and down in front of him.  
  
Jack got four years older, working at the agency. He spent little time relaxing or enjoying himself, and rarely got a moment to himself. His friend Arvin had gone on holiday to California with his girlfriend, Emily, and Jack and Ben went to the airport to pick their friends up, Joseph narrated.  
  
An announcement came over the PA system, announcing the arrival of Flight 940 from LAX, the airport in Los Angeles. The faint roar of a plane's engine snuck through the glass windows looking out on the runway.  
  
Thar she blows. You know what the three most exciting sounds in the world are? Jack asked his friend.  
  
Uh-huh. Breakfast is served; lunch is served; dinner . . . Ben said, ticking off his responses on his fingers.  
  
Jack rolled his eyes, No, no, no, no! Anchor chains, train whistles, and plane motors.  
  
Ben held out his bag.  
  
A light lit up over the door where the passengers would be disembarking from the plane. Minutes later, the door opened, and tired looking men and women exit. Arvin Sloane was one of the first to get off, followed by an attractive girl about the same age as he. Jack rushed over to his friend, and the two men embraced.  
  
"There's the joker now! Mr. 'It wasn't me' Sloane!" Jack said.   
  
Arvin grinned, Well, if it isn't old 'double 0' Bristow! What? No beautiful women? No gadgets? He turned to the other man, who was playing with his yo-yo, Ben, you haven't changed a bit!  
  
"Shhh! The yo-yo is sleeping!" he whispered to his friend. He sighed and wound up his toy. Nobody ever changes around here. You know that, said Ben, taking his turn to hug his friend.  
  
Oh, am I glad to see you, Jack shook his head happily. How was California?  
  
California was great. We stayed in a nice bed and breakfast in Sonoma, Arvin responded. Say, where's Mama B?  
  
She's home cooking the fatted calf. Come on, let's go, said Jack.  
  
Oh, wait, Arvin paused. Wait...wait a minute.  
  
Arvin turned to the woman beside him, Emily Dakin, the same young lady who came off the plane with him. The same Emily who had been his girlfriend since their years in college. _The same woman who was Laura's roommate,_ Jack thought to himself. In the excitement of greetings, she had been momentarily forgotten. She stood quietly next to Arvin, smiling and waiting.  
  
Hello Em, Jack nodded in acknowledgment.  
  
Ben mimicked his friend, also nodding, How do you do, my dear. He took her hand in his, and shook it as though he was a politician, catering for votes.  
  
Jack, Ben, you remember Emily, of course, Arvin took the woman's hand.  
  
The woman smiled, winking at Arvin, adding, Emily Sloane, if you don't mind.  
  
Jack and Ben stared at the couple, their jaws hitting the floor, astounded.  
  
Ben raised one eyebrow, confusion threatening to cause his ears to smoke.  
  
Well, I called you, telling you that I had a surprise, Arvin grinned mischievously. Here she is. Meet the wife.  
  
Jack was thunderstruck, and took Emily's hand without thinking.  
  
Well, what do you know--wife, Ben shook his head in disbelief.  
  
Well, well, well. Congratulations. Congratulations, Jack said, shaking the new Mrs. Sloane's hand. Then he stopped, mid-shake, What am I doing? Jack leaned over and kissed Emily on the cheek.  
  
Jack mock glared at Arvin, Why didn't you tell somebody? He turned to Emily, What's a pretty girl like you doing marrying this two-headed friend of mine?  
  
Well, I'll tell you...it's purely mercenary, she smirked, I'm in it for the money.  
  
At this, Jack's head shot up, blinking rapidly in shock.  
  
The fact that I love him, and that he's a sweet, endearing man is just a fringe benefit, she finished, a grin spreading across her face as she poked Arvin in the side and tickled him mercilessly.  
  
Jack let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, and smiled, relieved. He turned and picked up Emily's suitcase, and watched as Ben offered their friend's wife his arm, and led her off, talking loudly and jubilantly.  
  
Jack...I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner about Emily, Arvin said to him. You've been holding the bag here for four years, and...well, I won't let you down, Jack. I want to help you and Ben however I can...oh, wait a minute. I forgot my bag. I'll be right back. He dashed off in search of the baggage claim.  
  
He runs out of the shot, Jack watching him. Jack turned and walked quickly to catch up with the other two.  
  
It was a surprise to me. The new Mrs. Sloane, my friend's wife. Old, old friend, Ben mused, thinking deeply.  
  
Oh, of course. I wasn't sure if Arvin would ever agree to settle down myself, Emily said, laughing.  
  
And I want to tell you, started Ben.  
  
He means warn you, interrupted Jack, rolling his eyes, knowing what was coming next.  
  
Ben glared at his friend, then looked back at Emily, Either way, we're going to give the biggest party this city ever saw!  
  
Besides the Inaugural Ball, Jack added.  
  
  
  
And besides the end of the war, he continued.  
  
Uh huh, Ben tapped his foot, impatiently.  
  
Besides the...  
  
Okay, Jack, Ben sighed in frustration, I get the point. What I mean is, the biggest party we've ever given. He threw his hands up and stalked away.  
  
Emily smiled at Ben, who couldn't help but smile back.   
  
I'm going to go make sure Arvin didn't get lost, Ben told Emily and Jack,   
  
Emily went over to where Jack was standing and offered him some of her popcorn. Here, have some popcorn. Jack, Jack, Jack...that's all Arvin ever talks about.  
  
Emily, can I ask you something? Jack said in a low voice, nervously examining his hands.  
  
Of course, Jack. Why wouldn't I? she smiled reassuringly at him.  
  
Jack took a deep breath, How's Laura?  
  
Oh, yes, she's very good. Happy as a clown, Jack smiled at this. She's going for her master's in literature; she wants to be an English teacher.  
  
That's good, Jack said. There aren't, that is, she doesn't...ummm....what I mean is, he stuttered.  
  
Emily looked away, a hint of sadness for her husband's best friend, Well, she's going with someone from Arvin's office.  
  
  
  
I think his name is Bob...Bob Lindsay. That's it. They've been together for the past two years, she whispered.  
  
I see, Jack said, without emotion, looking away.  
  
The scene faded and wiped to the Bristows' house, in the beginning of the evening, after the wedding celebration for Emily and Arvin. Jack's uncle, Kenneth, was taking a photograph of the group assembled on the porch. Flash bulbs went off, and the group broke up. A small crowd entered the front door of the house, leaving Jack and Ben on the porch. The two men were sitting on the front steps, Jack looking melancholy, and Ben clearly tipsy as he swayed back and forth in his seat.  
  
Oh, boy, oh boy, oh boy, Ben stumbles down the front steps. He stood up slowly, shaking. I feel so good, I could spit in Bob Lindsay's eye. Jack grinned slightly at his friend, privately wishing he could do more than spit at Bob. I think I will, continued Ben. What did you say, huh? Oh, maybe I'd better go home.  
  
He spun around, looking for his hat, which, meanwhile, was sitting on his head.  
  
Where's my hat? Where's my... he said.  
  
Jack took the hat from Ben's head and handed it to him.  
  
Oh, thank you, Jack, Ben said. But which one is mine?  
  
Jack laughed, The middle one, Ben.  
  
Oh, thank you, Jack, old boy, old boy, he clasped him on the shoulder. Now, look--if you'll point me in the right direction...would you do that? Jack?  
  
Right down here, Jack pointed, walking his friend down the front steps. He turned Ben around, and headed him down the street towards his apartment.  
  
Old secret agent pal, huh... Ben muttered.  
  
Now you just turn this way and go right straight down, Jack told him.  
  
That way, huh?  
  
He staggered down the street, singing Beast of Burden. Jack turns around, only to hear the crash of cans and bottles.  
  
I'm all right. I'm all right, called Ben. ...I'll never be your beast of burden...'  
  
Jack stood at the garden gate, shaking his head in amusement at Ben's antics. He took some papers from his jacket pocket, and threw them out, obviously disturbed about the latest news Emily had given him. He opened the gate, and sat back down on the front steps, his chin propped up between his hands. Mrs. Bristow came out of the house and from behind, she kissed him on top of his head.  
  
Hello, Mom, Jack said.  
  
You're really the life of the party, aren't you Jack? his mother teased. How do you like her? she nodded towards the house, where Arvin and Emily, among a crowd of other couples, were dancing to the music of a record player.  
  
She's wonderful, Jack said.  
  
Looks like she can keep Arvin on his toes, Mrs. Bristow smiled.  
  
Keep him out of trouble, anyway, Jack looked down at his feet and grinned.  
  
Did you know that Laura Brown is back from school? his mother asked.  
  
Jack's heart involuntarily sped up to his dismay.  
  
Came back three days ago, she continued.  
  
  
  
Nice girl, Laura, Mrs. Bristow added.  
  
  
  
Kind that will help you find the answers, Jack.  
  
  
  
Oh, stop that grunting, Mrs. Bristow said frustrated with her son and crossing her arms.  
  
Jack continued, amused.  
  
Can you give me one good reason why you shouldn't call on Laura? she asked.  
  
Sure--Bob Lindsay, Jack spat out the name in disgust.  
  
questioned Mrs. Bristow, mocking her son's earlier grunts.  
  
Jack continued absently, Bob's crazy about my Laura. Been dating her for two years.  
  
Mrs. Bristow smiled slightly at the reference to my Laura. Then, in a knowing voice, she responded, Well, she's not crazy about him.  
  
Well, how do you know? he asked quickly, betraying his eagerness to know. Did she tell you?  
  
  
  
Well then, how do you know? Jack asked, slightly disappointed.  
  
Well, I've got eyes, haven't I? she fixed her son with a piercing stare. Why, she lights up like a firefly whenever you're around. And of course, she never looks as happy with Bob, as she does when she's with you.  
  
he trailed off.  
  
And besides, she added, Bob Lindsay's away in New York City, and you're here in Washington.  
  
And all's fair in love and war? Jack mused.  
  
Primly, Mrs. Bristow answered, I don't know about war.  
  
Mother, you know, Jack said, I can see right through you--right back to your back collar button...trying to get rid of me, huh?  
  
she nodded.  
  
Mrs. Bristow kissed her son on the cheek and put his hat on his head.  
  
Well, there's my hat, what's your hurry? All right, Mother, old pal, I think I'll go out and find a girl and do a little passionate necking, Jack looked at her with a cheeky grin on his face.  
  
Oh, Jack! Mrs. Bristow said exasperatedly.  
  
Now, if you'll just point me in the right direction...this direction? he said, repeating his friend's words. As he walked off into the darkness, he called to his mother, Good night, Mrs. Bristow.  
**  
TBC**   



	8. Chapter 8

AN: I love reviews! Of course, I'm not really even waiting for them to slowly roll in this time. Time slipped away from me, I missed the deadline for the December challenge. Oh well! Anyways, another chapter is done--and it's really long, once more. Happy reading!   
  
**Chapter Eight:  
**  
Jack was standing in the middle of the street, hands in his pockets. As a girl passes, he turned and watched her for a moment. _Laura has better legs than her,_ he thought, then sighed, shaking his head. He was obviously undecided as to what he wanted to do with himself, his mind muddled beyond belief with thoughts of the girl he couldn't have.  
  
Across the street, the lights were turned out at a small medical clinic. Judy, now Dr. Barnett, psychologist-at-large, stepped out of the door, neatly dressed in a pants suit, a briefcase in her hand. As Judy was locking up for the night, a couple of men crowded around her, each one bent on taking her out. There is laughter, kidding and pawing. She looked up and saw Jack standing on the other side of the street.  
  
Excuse me... she said, nodding at the group of men.  
  
Now, wait a minute, one man protested.  
  
I think I've got a date, she said, her eyes following Jack. But stick around, guys, just in case, huh? she teased.  
  
We'll wait for you, baby, another man smiled.  
  
Judy smoothed her pants, and crossed the street slowly, unbuttoning the top buttons of her shirt as she walked towards Jack, who was standing on the sidewalk, watching her closely.  
  
Hello, Mr. Bristow, Judy said, breathily.  
  
Hi, Jude, he said, using his nickname for her.   
  
Jack raised his eyes, and looked her up and down, much to his disgust. Despite the fact that he wasn't particularly enamored with the woman, he couldn't deny that he found her quite attractive.  
  
Judy watched him, amused at his subtle glances, followed by his all-out stare, focusing upon the area that had been previously covered by the top buttons of her shirt. Clearly Jack was far from immune to her charms. She linked her arm in his and continued on down the street, strolling along with him.  
  
What gives? Judy asked.  
  
he muttered.  
  
Where are you going? she probed.  
  
Jack paused, I'll probably end up down at the library. Thinking to himself, he added, _So I can watch Laura from behind the bookshelves._  
  
They stopped walking and faced one another.  
  
Jack, don't you ever get tired of just reading about things and waiting for something that might never happen? she asked, looking up at him, her eyes seductive and guileful.  
  
Jack was silent for a moment, his mind going in circles, then blurted out, Yes...what are you doing tonight?  
  
Not a thing, Judy said, feigning surprise.  
  
Are you game, Jude? Let's make a night of it.  
  
Judy smiled, having finally gotten what she wanted; a date with Jack Bristow. She looked him in the eyes, and answered, Oh, I'd love it, Jack. What'll we do?  
  
Let's go out to the Lincoln Memorial and take off our shoes and wade through the Reflecting Pool.  
  
her eyebrows raised in confusion.  
  
Then we can go to the Jefferson Memorial. It's beautiful up there in the moonlight, and there's a nice spread of water that reflects the moonbeams, and we can sit reading Walt Whitman. Then we can camp out on the steps of the Capitol, and watch the sunrise against the Washington Monument, and...we'll stay there the whole night, and everybody'll be talking and there'll be a terrific scandal... he trailed off, thinking of a certain brown-haired beauty he'd like to have at his side.  
  
Judy interrupted his thoughts, Jack, have you gone crazy? Wade in the Reflecting Pool in my bare feet? And, you know what, I don't even think you're allowed to spend the night on the steps of the Capitol.  
  
he whispered urgently, putting his index finger to his mouth.  
  
You think just because you... she started, fury in her voice.  
  
By this time, a small crowd collected to watch the developing scene. Judy was furious and spoke in a loud voice, while Jack tried to quiet her.  
  
Okay, just forget about the whole thing, he finally said, angrily, shoving his hands in his pockets, and stalked off.  
  
The crowd laughed at the irritated man until he turned around and shot them a dark look, and silence reigned once more on the street.  
  
Moments later, Milo and Joseph watched as Jack walked slowly past Laura's house. He stared meditatively at the simple dwelling, then he started walking ahead, but after a few steps he turned around and started back. He walked past the house a few yards, turned, and started back again.  
  
Laura had her head poked out the window, watching Jack walk back and forth.  
  
What are you doing, picketing? she finally called down to him.  
Jack stopped, startled, and looked up.  
  
Hello, Laura. I just happened to be passing by, he explained.  
  
Yeah, so I noticed. Have you made up your mind? Laura asked.  
  
How's that?  
  
Have you made up your mind? she repeated.  
  
About what?  
  
About coming in. Your mother just phoned and said you were on your way over to pay me a visit, Laura said.  
  
Jack looked surprised at this, My mother just called you? Well, how did she know?  
  
Didn't you tell her?  
  
I didn't tell anybody. I just went for a walk and happened to be passing by on my way home from the library... he trailed off, noticing Laura was no longer watching him from her window._  
  
What do you...went for a walk, that's all,_ he said to himself. _Don't be stupid, Jack; you know that when you saw she wasn't in the library you walked over to her apartment,_ he reprimanded himself.  
  
Inside the house, Laura ran down the stairs, calling into the kitchen, I'm going to be in the living room, Katie, don't come in, to her roommate, Katherine MacMahon.   
  
All right, Laura, Katie answered.  
  
Laura looked in a mirror at the bottom of the stairs and fixed her hair, smoothing it behind her ears. Her facial expression plainly showing her unconscious excitement at Jack's visit. She ran into the living room and put a sketch on the coffee table.  
  
The picture was a caricature of Jack throwing a lasso around the moon, that had the caption, Jack Lassos The Moon. Laura had drawn it herself one day as she sat in the university's library, bored with her study of Chinese literature of the hundredth dynasty she'd read about.  
  
Laura ran back into the hall, opened the record player and put on a record of I'll Be Home for Christmas. Then she opened the front door and stood there waiting for Jack.  
  
Jack heard the front door open and looked over to see Laura standing in the doorway, her outline glowed, giving her a halo. Her hair flowed down over her shoulders, and her deep brown eyes gazed contentedly at him. Jack swallowed. _My goddess,_ he thought. Jack struggled with the gate, finally kicking it open and started slowly up the path toward Laura.  
  
Well, are you coming in or aren't you? Laura smiled encouragingly.  
  
Well, I'll come in for a minute, but I didn't tell anybody I was coming over here, Jack said, walking up the stairs and into the house. When did you get back? he questioned her.  
  
  
  
Where'd you get that dress? he asked, without thinking.  
  
Do you like it? she twirled around._  
  
Good god man! Get a hold of yourself!_ he mentally smacked himself. _Can you be any more obvious that you think she's the most gorgeous creature you've ever laid eyes on?_  
  
It's all right, Jack covered, tensing up, his back rigid. I thought you'd go back to New York City to be with Bob.  
  
Oh, I worked there for a couple of vacations, but I don't know...I guess I was homesick.  
  
Homesick? For school? Studying? Jack looked at her, shocked.  
  
Yes, and my friends and... Laura stopped, fearing she'd said too much. Oh, everything, I suppose. Would you like to sit down?  
  
They went through the doorway into the living room.  
  
All right, for a minute. I still can't understand it though. You know I didn't tell anybody I was coming here.  
  
Would you rather leave? she asked, her eyebrows knitting together.  
  
No, I don't want to be rude, Jack answered, mentally berating himself for lying.  
  
Well, then, sit down, she waved towards the couch.  
  
Jack saw the cartoon on the table and bent down to take a close look at it.  
  
Some joke, huh? he said, looking at the picture. He sighed, and took a seat on the love seat.  
  
Laura squeezed in next to him, making Jack painfully aware of her presence, as her body pressed up against the side of his. He took off his hat and sat it on his lap as discreetly as he could, hoping she wouldn't notice that his breathing had quickened. Jack was clearly uncomfortable and continued to fidget, while Laura tried desperately to keep the conversation alive.  
  
Well, I see you still keep thousands of old books, Jack commented.  
  
Thank you, she said, halfheartedly.  
  
There was silence for a moment, then Laura joined in singing with the record which had been playing all through the conversation, I'm dreaming tonight... she started.  
  
What's the matter? Jack asked, distractedly. He thought for a moment, Oh, yeah...yeah... He looked at his watch, as though about to leave, Well, I...  
  
It was nice about your friend Arvin, and Emily, wasn't it? she interrupted, frantically casting around for a topic that would make him talk.  
  
Oh...yeah, yeah. That's all right, Jack grumbled, remembering what Emily had told him about Bob Lindsay.  
  
Don't you like her? she asked, shocked that someone might not like her friend Emily.  
  
Well, of course I like her. She's a great.  
  
Oh, it's just marriage in general you're not enthusiastic about, huh? Laura pressed him.  
  
No, marriage is all right for Arvin, and Ben, and Bob and you, he responded, again seeing his Laura in the arms of Lindsay.  
  
Katie, in an apron, and with her hand in oven mitts, leaned over the kitchen counter, calling, Laura! Laura! She slipped the mitts off, continuing, Who's down there with you?  
  
It's Jack Bristow, Katie, Laura answered.  
  
Jack Bristow? The famous coffee shop man'? What's he want? Katie asked, starting to walk into the other room, eager to finally meet the man who had her friend twisted like a pretzel.  
  
Laura blushed at the reminder of coffee shop man,' also referred to as the knight in wet clothes,' Laura's sugar daddy,' but officially known as Jonathan D. Bristow. I don't know, she shouted to the other woman. Turning to Jack, she asked, What _do_ you want?  
  
Me? Not a thing. I just came in to get warm, Jack said, somewhat indignantly.  
  
He's making violent love to me, Katie, she yelled to her friend.  
Jack was aghast. _  
  
How did she know what I wanted to do?_ he wondered, his eyes as wide as saucers.  
  
You tell him to go right back home, and don't you leave the house, either, Katie lectured. Bob Lindsay promised to call you from New York tonight.  
  
But your friend needn't...you know I didn't come here to...to...to... Jack stuttered, attempting to cover up his thoughts.  
  
Laura stood, and looked at him sharply, Then what did you come here for?  
  
I don't know. You tell me. You're supposed to be the one that has all the answers. You tell me he said. _  
  
Good comeback, Jack old boy,_ a little voice in his mind taunted him. _You're so mature. You definitely stumped her with that one._ _  
  
Shut up!_ he thought.  
  
Oh, why don't you go home? Laura said, feeling terribly hurt, but not understanding why.  
  
That's where I'm going. I don't know why I came here in the first place! Good night! Jack shouted. _  
  
And the score is Bristow-zero, the world-one,_ the voice said. _And you call yourself a game theorist?_  
  
As Jack left the room, the telephone in the hall started to ring.  
  
Good night! Laura shouted back at his retreating figure, her fists clenched at her sides, angry tears spilling from her eyes.   
  
Laura! Laura! The telephone! It's Bob! called her friend, Katie.  
  
I'll get it, Laura whispered, tear stains marking her face as she walked into the hallway where the phone was sitting.  
  
As Laura came into the hall, she stopped by the record player, which was still playing I'll be Home for Christmas, took off the record with a jerk, and smashed it against the wall. The phone still ringing in the background.  
  
Laura, he's waiting! Katie yelled from upstairs, where she had retreated to after turning her gingerbread men in the oven.  
  
Laura picked up the phone, noticing Jack creep back up the front steps, and into the house.  
  
I forgot my hat, he said, sheepishly.  
  
Why, hello dear! Laura said, overly enthusiastic even to her own ears. Bob, darling, how are you?  
  
Aw, great. God, it's good to hear your voice again, Laura, he said over the phone.  
  
Jack stopped, hat in hand, to hear the first greetings.  
  
Oh, well, that's awfully sweet of you, Bob, she said, glancing towards the door and noticing that Jack was still there, hovering in the doorway. There's an old friend of yours here. Jack Bristow.  
  
You mean old iceman' Jack?  
  
Yes, old iceman' Jack, she affirmed, watching Jack attempt to slip away out of the corner of her eye.  
  
Put him on, Bob asked.  
  
Wait a minute. I'll call him, Laura said, covering the mouthpiece of the phone. she called.  
  
He doesn't want to speak to Jack, you idiot! Katie said irritably.  
  
He does so. He asked for him, Laura shouted at her roommate. Go tend to your gingerbread, Katie! I think they're burning. She turned to the door and again started to call, but lowered her voice once she realized he was standing right in front of her. Jack, Bob wants to speak to you.  
  
She hands the instrument to George.  
  
Hello, Bob, Jack said, cautiously.  
  
A quick shot showed Bob Lindsay's office in New York City to the two angels who were observing this interaction. Bob was seated at his desk, a blonde-haired woman perched on his lap. He stroked her hair, smiling at her as she wrapped her arms around his neck.  
  
Well, well, well. Who'd have thought, Jonathan Bristow! Bob said into the phone. A fine man you are. what're you trying to do? Steal my girl? he asked, teasing the other man.  
  
What do you mean? Jack frowned, missing the fact that Bob wasn't being serious. Nobody's trying to steal your girl. Here...here's Laura.  
  
No, wait a minute. Wait a minute. I want to talk to you, Bob said.  
  
Jack started, disconcerted by the fact that he was having a relatively civil conversation with the son of the man who plagued his life.   
  
Tell Laura to get on the extension, Bob added.  
  
Here. You take it. You tell him, Jack said, turning to leave.  
  
Katie's on the extension, she said, loudly, catching her roommate's attention.  
  
As Katie heard this, she hastily hung up the extension phone on which she had been listening, ducking back into her room.  
  
We can both hear, Laura said. Come here, she added, looking at Jack, waving him over with her hand.  
  
Laura took the telephone from Jack and held it so that of necessity Jack's cheek was almost against hers. Jack tried to control his breathing, very aware of her proximity.  
  
We're listening, Bob, Laura said.  
  
I have a big deal coming up that's going to make us all rich, Bob started. Jack, you remember that project you've been working on? Project 048512?  
  
Huh? Yeah-yeah-yeah...that op. Yeah, Jack mumbled.  
  
Well, Dad's snapped up the idea. He's going to fully fund the op. How do you like that?  
  
Laura watched Jack interestedly, who, in turn, was quite conscious of her, close to him.  
  
Your father? Well, why? Jack wondered aloud.  
  
Well, why not? Can you think of anything better? he asked.  
  
Oh, I don't know...it's just that...well, your father has never really liked me very much. He didn't like my father either, for that matter, Jack said, carefully.  
  
That so? Well, I never knew that. I'll have to talk to him about that. Now listen. Have you got any problems with this?  
  
Problems? Yeah...well, a little...I mean, I'll have to talk this over with Ben, Jack stalled.  
  
Well, now listen. I want you to talk it over with Ben tomorrow, you hear? And Jack, I may have a job for you over here with the NSC; that is, unless you're still married to that broken-down Research and Development department at the State Department.' The stuff going on up here in New York...well, it's the biggest thing this country will have seen since Tonkin Gulf, and I'm letting you in on the ground floor. Oh, Laura...Laura... Bob said, calling to his   
  
I'm here, she responded, nervously.  
  
Would you tell that guy I'm giving him the chance of a lifetime, you hear? The chance of a lifetime, said Bob's voice.  
  
As Laura listened, she turned to look at Jack, her lips almost on his lips.  
He says it's the chance of a lifetime.  
  
Jack couldn't stand it any longer. He dropped the phone with a crash, grabbed Laura by the shoulders and shook her.   
  
Now you listen to me! I don't want any deal with your boyfriend! I don't want any part of it, and I don't want to get married--ever--to anyone! You understand that? I want to do what I want to do. And you're...and you're... he stumbled, seeing her start to sob silently.  
  
Jack looked down at her, watching the tears drip slowly down her face. Instantly, he felt as though he was overflowing with guilt. Irritably, he thought, _To hell with it! I'm going to tell her the truth and show her how much she means to me. F*** Lindsay!_   
  
He lifted his hand to her face, and gently wiped away her tears. he whispered.   
  
She continued to look down at her feet, trying to regain her calm, smoothing a strand of hair behind her ear.   
  
Jack lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. He peered into her cloudy brown eyes. _Even now, she's still the most beautiful woman I've ever seen,_ Jack thought to himself, as he absently stroked her cheek with his thumb.  
  
He swallowed, and started again, Laura...I didn't mean it. Jack stopped, mulling over his words before saying anything else. The fact is, that I don't want to ever get married to anyone, he said softly, not breaking eye contact.  
  
Laura tried to break loose from his arms, when she heard Jack continue, speaking so quietly that it seemed as though he were speaking to himself.   
  
But you, he said.  
  
Laura froze, turning slowly to look back at the man who had her completely entranced. She studied him, slowly, then moved closer, her breath hot against Jack's face.   
  
she asked, shyly.  
  
You had to ask? Jack teased, pulling his arms closer around her. Laura, you've had me hooked since you ordered coffee that day in the café, he smiled, hiding the raw anxiety that lay hidden, desperately afraid that she would turn him away and leave._  
  
My superiors aren't going to like this,_ Laura thought, biting down on her lower lip, pausing as she made her decision. The slight movement she felt made her look up, noticing Jack flinch, and start to back away from her. What's wrong? she asked, worried that he was going to take it back, leaving her with Bob. Laura swallowed, Bob was not exactly her favourite person; but one doesn't get to chose whom one is to seduce for the KGB. And her superiors wanted her to get close to a source of classified information. _To hell with it! F*** the KGB!_ she said to herself, echoing Jack's previous thoughts. _They'll just get used to the fact that Lindsay's out of the picture. They'll just have to get used to Jack._   
  
Jack watched as she had a mental conversation with herself, and started to move away, since he feared that once she thought about it rationally, she'd send him packing. At her question, he stopped, and looked at his toes, You're going to turn me down...and, I...I just wanted to spare you the trouble of having to tell me.  
  
She looked at him, puzzled for a moment, then smiled. You seriously think I'm going to turn you down? she asked, stepping closer to him.  
  
Well, yes, started Jack. he frowned, his forehead wrinkling, you mean, you're not?  
  
Shut up and kiss me, Jack.  
  
Jack didn't need to be told twice. He bridged the gap between them and swept her up in his arms, holding her tightly as though he was afraid she'd pass through his fingers if he let go. Tilting his head, he kissed her slowly, tenderly. Tentative kisses became passionate and fierce, as a young man and a young woman who were meant for one another found themselves in complete ecstasy.  
  
Oh, Laura... he whispered against his neck, pausing to nibble at her ear.  
  
Laura groaned, ever-so-slightly. Jack...oh Jack...I love you...  
  
he murmured into her hair, You're my world.  
  
Katie crept over to the top of the stairs, and looked down at the couple below her. At the sight of her friend in the arms of another man, kissing him frantically, she practically fell over in a dead faint.  
**  
TBC**   



	9. Chapter 9

AN: This chapter has been a wee bit of a pain to write. It was difficult to rethink/rewrite the Black Tuesday part. Oh yes, I should add that Black Tuesday is also known as the day the stocks crashed in 1929 in the US. There's just so much to do with this story. Here's chapter nine--have fun reading!  
  
Oh, before I forget, all references to the Pentagon Papers are historically accurate, including newspaper headlines, quotations, and details.   
  
And as always, please read and review!!  
  
**Chapter Nine:  
**  
When the angels looked down at the presentation of Jack's life, they saw that the scene had changed. Instead of looking at the living room in Laura's apartment, they were now looking at the exterior of a large church where a small crowd was gathered. Family, friends, and others were grouped around the stairs, waiting, talking, laughing and crying.  
  
Suddenly the doors burst open.  
  
Here they come! shouted Emily Sloane.  
  
Jack and Laura Bristow appeared in the doorway, clad in their wedding finery. Jack looked sharp in a black tuxedo with a red rose in his boutonniere, while Laura wore a long silky white dress with a low back, and carried a bouquet of matching red roses, her hair pulled back in a loose chignon. The sound of the Wedding March faintly playing from inside the church accompanied them as they walked down the stairs in a shower of rice. Jack placed his arm protectively on the small of Laura's back as they posed on the steps with family for a photo. When the Bristows finally reached the street, a black limo was waiting for them. As Jack opened the door for Laura, she turned and tossed her bouquet, which was caught by Judy Barnett. Then, together, they slipped into the limo and kissed happily as they pulled away from the curb.   
  
After several minutes, the tinted glass that separated them from the eyes and ears of the limo driver slid down.  
  
If either of you two see a stranger around here, it's me, said a voice from the driver's seat.  
  
Hey, look! Somebody's driving this car, Jack said in mock-surprise.  
  
Arvin turned around and reached over, handing Jack a bottle of champagne done up in gift wrappings.  
  
My parents sent this down, he said, grimacing slightly. Couldn't be there for my wedding. Couldn't be there for the wedding of my best friend who's practically my brother. But at least they remembered.  
  
Oh, look at this. Champagne! Jack held the bottle out, showing Laura and shooting Arvin an understanding look.  
  
That was awfully sweet of them, Laura commented, unaware of the tension between Arvin and his parents.  
  
By the way, where are you two going on this here now honeymoon? he asked the newlyweds, changing the subject.  
  
Where are we going? Jack said jovially. He pulled out a thick envelope from his briefcase. Look at this, he says, waving a stack of airplane tickets, their passports, hotel reservations and the such.   
  
I feel like Joe Kennedy's wife, Laura giggled, holding up the foreign currency Jack had obtained.   
  
You know what we're going to do? Jack started. We're going to shoot the works. A whole week in Paris. A whole week in Venice. The highest hotels--the oldest champagne--the richest caviar--the hottest music, and the prettiest wife! We'll be ambling along in a gondola, strolling down the Champs Elysees, holding hands in the Louvre. It'll be something to remember, all right.  
  
That does it! Then what? asked Arvin.  
  
Then what, honey? Jack turned to Laura.  
  
After that, who cares? she smiled, her eyes twinkling.  
  
That does it--come here, Jack growled, tickling underneath her ribs.  
  
The limo passed the building where Jack's department had their offices, under the guise of a government think tank, and Arvin, as he drove, saw a mass of people crowded around a newsstand, all holding copies of _The_ _New York Times_.   
  
Arvin stopped the limo. Jack, there's something going on out there... he started, then paused remembering the presence of Laura. Looks like there's a big story in the _Times_, I'm going to go grab a copy, Arvin gave Jack a look, raising his eyebrows, and hopped out to get himself a copy.  
  
He bought himself a paper and stood outside, glancing at the coverage on the front page. Arvin inhaled sharply at the main headline, Vietnam Archive: Pentagon Study Traces 3 Decades of Growing U.S. Involvement, and walked briskly back to the limo. Getting into the driver's seat, he immediately turned around and handed the paper to Jack.   
  
Jack looked down at the front page.   
  
he exclaimed. Arvin, this is a problem. You know the feds are going to want everyone to come in... he trailed off. Park here, I'm running into the office.  
  
Jack, what is it? We have to make our train. Let's not stop. Let's go! pleaded Laura.  
  
Jack got out of the limo and looked down the street. Just a minute, dear. Oh-oh...  
  
Please, let's not stop, Jack, Laura tugged on the sleeve of his jacket.  
  
I'll be back in a minute, Laura, he said, as he started to jog down the street to his office.  
  
On the sidewalk, a crowd of reporters waited around the locked door. Jack walked over with an assumed cheerful manner. The people looked at him silently, half shamefaced, but grimly determined on their rights.  
  
Jack started cautiously. Is there a problem here? Are you all looking for someone or something?  
  
No one answered. Jack turned and quickly unlocked the grill door and pushed it open, turning the knob on the proper door and entering the building. Followed by the crowd, Jack walked into reception area for the Research and Development offices. As he went around the back of the counter, it became clear to the reporters that this was the man with whom they wanted to speak. After a second's delay, camera bulbs flashed, notebooks were opened and questions filled the air.  
  
Jack blinked, startled by the sudden buzz that filled the air. He turned towards his office and noticed Ben Devlin standing in the doorway to a private office that Jack often used. Ben took a drink from a bottle and motioned to Jack to join him.  
  
What is this, Ben? The start of World War III? Jack asked anxiously.  
  
Ben started, pointing to Jack's office, again gesturing for him to follow him in there.   
  
Jack turned back cheerfully to the crowd. Come on in, everybody. That's right, just come in, he said, as he vaulted over the counter where the receptionist sat. Now look, why don't you all sit down. There are a lot of seats over there. Just make yourselves at home, he continued, motioning to the throng of reporters.  
  
Jack, can I see you a minute? Ben asked.  
  
The reporters ignored Jack and remained standing in front of the counter, questions being shouted relentlessly towards the two men, while scribbling furiously on their notebooks. Seeing this, Jack hurried into his office where Ben was waiting for him.  
  
Why didn't you call me? Jack asked, closing the door behind him.  
  
I just did, but they said you left. This is a pickle, Jack, this is a pickle, Ben paced in front of Jack's desk.  
  
All right now, what happened? How did it start?   
  
How does anything like this ever start? All I know is the paper got hold of the report, said Ben.  
  
  
  
About a day ago, I guess. The press is looking towards us since we're connected to the think tank, Ben explained.  
  
And the agency?  
  
I called over to Langley an hour ago. It sounds like chaos over there.  
  
Holy s***! Jack exclaimed, running his hand through his hair.  
  
And then, Jack, I closed the doors. I wasn't sure how we should handle the press.  
  
The whole city's gone crazy.  
  
The telephone rang, interrupting their conversation.   
  
Ben picked it up, Yes, hello? He listened to the voice on the phone, Yes, sir. I see, sir. Here's Bristow, sir. He covered the phone with his hand and whispered, Jack...it's Paul Lindsay.  
  
Jack cleared his throat and took the phone, Hello?  
  
On the other end of the phone, Lindsay was seated behind his desk, his son alongside him. Standing in front of the desk was a distinguished-looking man, the director of Interagency Cooperation. He stood there, mopping his brow with his handkerchief.  
  
Jack, there is a rumor around Langley that you've closed your doors. Is that true? Oh, well, I'm very glad to hear that...Jack, are you all right? Do you need any support? Police? Agents? Lindsay spoke into the phone, a gleeful smirk upon his face.  
  
Police? Agents? What for? Jack raised his eyebrows.  
  
Well, reporters can ask pretty ugly questions sometimes, you know, Lindsay said rather matter-of-factly. Jack, I'm going all out to help in this crisis. I've just guaranteed the Department of Interagency Cooperation that I will personally take care of this mess about the leak.  
  
Jack looked over to Ben, covering the phone, He just took over the IAC department.  
  
I may lose a little face in the press, but I'm willing to help your department too. Just tell the reporters to bring their questions over here and I will take care of it. You don't have to worry about a thing; I'll find the leak and plug it. And Research and Development won't be connected to the think tank's work at all.  
  
You never miss a trick, do you, Lindsay? Jack said furiously. Well, guess what: you're going to miss this one!  
  
Jack threw the receiver down with a crash and turned to face the oncoming storm.  
  
Back in Lindsay's office, he continued speaking into the phone, If you close your doors on the press, or accidentally leak something else, you will be brought in and thrown in prison. When there was no response, he realized Jack hung up on him and clicked the phone furiously.   
  
In Jack's office, the two men sat quietly, pondering their course of action.   
  
Jack, was it a nice wedding? Ben asked, breaking the silence. God, I wanted to be there. You getting married. I'll never understand how I got stuck with overseeing the op center today. His eyes narrowed, I'll bet Bob had his father screw me over just so I'd miss the wedding. That son of a b****...he's just jealous that you and Laura...  
  
Jack sighed. He looked down at Ben's hand. What's this? he asked, pointing to a loop of thread on Ben's index finger.  
  
Ben looked up, a wide grin spreading across his face. I was coming up with a new trick for my yo-yo while I was baby-sitting the new recruits. I named it Jack Lassos Laura.'  
  
The other man ducked as Jack tried to whack him upside the head.  
  
An ominous sound of angry voices came from the other room, interrupting Jack and Ben, who then turned to exit the office. A younger man, the new recruit Ben had been "baby-sitting", Bill Vaughn stood by the counter, straightening his tie, his forehead wrinkling as he nervously waited for the other men. By this time, more people had crowded around the counter. Their muttering stopped and they stood silent and grim.  
  
Now, just remember that this thing isn't as big as it appears, Jack started. At that moment, a breaking news bulletin came onto the television set in the reception area, blaring the latest news of the report. The reporters all turned to the television, and then back to Jack.  
  
I have some news for you; I have just spoken to a representative of the various agencies involved with this issue, and Interagency Cooperation has just been temporarily replaced. The man to talk to with your concerns is Paul Lindsay. He's CIA, Jack added as an aside.  
  
But, Jack, we're hear to talk to reps who know something about Rand; not some crusty old fart who sits around at Langley, interjected one reporter from _The_ _Washington Post_.  
  
Does the CIA have anything to do with this office of the Rand think tank? asked another.  
  
  
Well, no, Charlie, Jack answered. We don't take orders from Lindsay--we're not lackeys for the g-men.  
  
Okay then, Jack, said a man holding a microphone towards his face. What'd you know about a Mr. Daniel Ellsberg?  
  
Did McNamara really order this study?  
  
What does President Nixon think of this?  
  
Was this report supposed to go public?  
  
What affect will the Pentagon Papers have on the war?  
  
Questions flew through the air without stop. Throughout the day, there was a revolving door; each time it opened to let someone out, someone new came in. Jack dealt with the first group, then Ben took his turn at answering the reporters' questions. After watching for a while, Bill Vaughn also tried answering questions in the same manner as his two superiors did. The rotation went on until early in the evening.   
  
Hours later, Jack, Ben, and the secretary, Mrs. Hannigan, were standing behind the counting, closely watching the minute hand of a clock on the wall as Jack counted off the seconds. Bill stood by the door, waiting to close it and lock it shut.   
  
We're going to make it, Jack. They'll never close us up today! Lindsay will miss his chance yet again! exclaimed Ben, who was anxiously fiddling with his yo-yo.  
  
Jack shouted, waving to Bill.  
Bill slammed and locked the door, and scurried around the counter to join the others.  
  
We made it! Look... Ben pointed to the telephone, which was not ringing, ...look, we're still in business! No calls to bring us in for screwing up too much! he took a swig from a new bottle.   
  
Well, let's have some of that. Go in back and pull out the six-pack, Bill, Jack said. Turning to Ben, he added, We're just two wild and crazy guys! mimicking a sketch from a new variety show on NBC, as he wiggled his hips. We're the next generation--look out 007, 00B, 00D and 00V are in town!   
  
In your face J. Edgar! Ben added, high-fiving his friend.  
  
As Bill came back carrying the beer, each man grabbed a bottle.   
  
Jack raised his bottle, To Research and Development!  
  
Ben added, To Paul Lindsay!  
  
Bill, silent for a moment, spoke up, To Jack, on his new wife! May you and Laura have many years of happiness and joy!  
  
And may you have lots and lots of dangerously hot sex! added Ben with a smirk.  
  
The men clanked their bottles, and each took a deep gulp.   
  
Oh, before I forget--wedding cigars! said Ben, passing around a box.  
  
Oh-oh...wedding! Oh s***, I'm married! Where's Laura? Laura... he called, running around the office looking for her. Poor Laura. Look, I've got a train to catch, he said, looking down at his watch. Well, the train's gone. I wonder if Arvin's still there with his car?  
  
Jack rushed into his office to look out the window.  
  
Jack, there's a call for you, Mrs. Hannigan announced her her employer, holding up the telephone.  
  
Look, will you get my wife on the phone? She's probably over at her friend's, Jack told her, bustling around the office, picking up his jacket and various other personal belongings.  
  
Mrs. Bristow is on the phone, she announced.  
  
I don't want Mrs. Bristow. I want my wife. Mrs. Bristow! Oh, that's my wife! Here, I'll take it in here, he said to his secretary, walking into his office. Laura? Hello. Listen, dear, I'm sorry...what? Come home? What home? Three-twenty Sycamore? Well, what...whose home is that? The Waldorf Hotel, huh?  
**  
TBC**   
  



	10. Chapter 10

AN: Wow, it's taking so long to write this story! I'm only on the tenth chapter and I've been working on this for so many weeks! Slow going, I suppose. This portion was so much easier to write than the last. It was quite a problem to figure out what to replace the Great Depression with in the story. Oh well--what's done is done. Thanks, as always, for your reviews; please keep them coming! And here is the tenth chapter, without further ado (about nothing)!  
  
**Chapter Ten:  
**  
An old-fashioned, three story brownstone, much like the house that Jack's parents lived in, stood at three-twenty Sycamore. The doors and window frames were warped by the weather, the paint peeling off in large strips. The somewhat run-down house, which once, clearly, had class, had not been lived in for years.   
  
A taxi pulled up to the curb in front of the brownstone, rain falling in torrents, the headlights of the car lost in the darkness of the storm. Jack Bristow got out of the taxi and dashed over to the overhang of the front door, stopping to make sure he was at the right number before going up the steps.  
  
Off to the side of the house, Arvin and Ben worked quickly in the rain, sorting through travel posters.  
  
Hey, these are from the agency's front company in the travel agency; they're not going to like this, commented Ben.  
  
How would you like to baby-sit the Farm-fresh' recruits again next week? Haven't you any romance in you? Arvin asked.  
  
Sure I have, but my last girlfriend got rid of it, his friend said.  
  
When was that? Two years ago? asked Arvin, teasing the other man. He picked up a poster, Frequent flyer miles? What? They want romantic places, beautiful places...places where they were supposed to go to on their honeymoon, he said, reading it.  
  
A sharp whistle was heard. Bill, the young man from the office, leaned out the window.   
  
Hey, guys, here he comes, he called. I still can't believe I got roped into this. How did that happen again?  
  
Ben whispered loudly, Because you don't have anything better to do than make up for the fact that your boss can't go on his honeymoon.  
  
Good reason, came Bill's response as he left the window.  
  
Come on, we got to get this up, Arvin said.   
  
The two men worked diligently on the side of the house, putting up travel posters to cover up the broken windows.  
  
Get that ladder up here, Arvin ordered.  
  
All right--all right, muttered Ben, who wasn't too fond of heights.  
  
Hurry up...hurry up...hurry up, added Arvin, nervously.  
  
I'm hurrying, the other man grumbled.  
  
Back at the front door, Jack was walking up the steps, noticing a sign pinned to the door that read, Bridal Suite. Bill looked out through the curtain covering the broken glass of the front door.  
  
Hey Ja... started Bill, who quickly corrected himself. Good evening, sir.  
He opened the door, revealing himself to be dressed as a butler. _I work for the world's largest costume shop,_ thought Bill, who was wearing a black jacket with long tails and a white dress shirt, complete with white bow tie.  
  
Entrez-vous, monsieur, he instructed.   
  
Jack stepped through the door and allowed Bill to take his coat and hat. The house was carpetless, the hardwood floors scratched, and empty--the rain and wind causing funny noises upstairs. A huge fire was burning in the fireplace. Near the fireplace a folding card table was covered with a checkered oil cloth, set for two. A bucket with ice and a champagne bottle sat on the table as well as a bowl of caviar. Two small chickens were impaled on a spit over the fire. A record is playing, perched on a box, and a string from the record player turned the chickens on the spit. The record player was playing Billie Holiday's Embraceable You. Laura was standing near the fireplace, the light of the flames giving her face a soft glow, her long hair flowing around her like a veil. She was smiling at Jack, who had been slowly taking in the whole setup, a dumbstruck look on his face. Through a door he noted the end of a cheap bed, over the back of which was a pair of pajamas and a silk nightgown.   
  
Monsieur, j'espère que vous avez une bonne nuit, said Bill, breaking the silence as he exited. Pouvez vous avoir une nuit occupée, he added as he shut the door.  
  
Tears welling up in the corners of her eyes, Laura quietly said, Welcome home, Mr. Bristow.  
  
Well, I'll be...Laura, Laura, where did you... Jack started incredulously, looking around the room.   
  
Laura rushed over to her husband and wrapped her arms around him, resting her head on his chest as she listened to his heartbeat, tears freely falling from her eyes.  
  
Jack whispered, It's okay. I love you Laura; I love you with all that I am.  
  
Outside the nearest window, Arvin, Eric and Bill stood in the pouring rain and started to sing I Love You Truly.  
  
Jack smiled at the sound of his friends serenading them. Laura moved back from him, and looked into his eyes.  
  
Remember the night we wished on the shooting stars? This is what I wished for, said Laura, kissing him softly on the lips.  
  
Darling, you're wonderful, Jack murmured into her hair, pulling his wife into his arms once again; a moment of pure and simple bliss.  
  
Back outside, the trio finished their song and Ben kissed Arvin on the forehead. A moment passed, Bill's eyes flitting from one man to the other, curiously and nervously waiting for a reaction. Then, Arvin smacked Ben upside the head and stalked off to the car. Ben and Bill shared a look of shared amusement and dashed off in pursuit of Arvin.   
  
Milo and Joseph sat back, watching as the next two years flew by, as if there was a heavenly remote control that fast-forwarded through the story of Jack's life. Then a new scene came before them, presenting itself normally.  
  
The ballroom of an elegant hotel was filled with couples milling about, some dancing, some talking, some sipping at aperitifs, some eating. The ballroom had been rented out by the Class of 1970 for a reunion; their alumni committee decided to get everyone together after only four years, instead of waiting for five. Ben Devlin and Arvin Sloane helped to organize this event, and, as Ben eloquently put it, Everybody who's anybody has a reunion at four years; only losers go for five and ten, explaining the unusual choice in time.  
  
Jack and Laura Bristow were dancing slowly with one another to the jazz that was playing. Laura was wearing Jack's favourite dress; a silk white strapless dress that fell to mid-calf, accenting her long legs. Jack, in turn, was wearing a suit with a navy bow tie that his wife had picked out, very reminiscent of the night they first danced with one another. A new song came on; Ella Fitzgerald and Louis Armstrong began to sing Dancing Cheek to Cheek, as the DJ changed the record.   
  
Jack pulled his wife closer, their cheeks barely touching one another.   
Heaven, I'm in heaven, he began to sing quietly with the record. And my heart beats so that I can hardly speak...  
  
Laura chimed in, and I seem to find the happiness I seek...  
  
When we're out together dancing cheek to cheek, they sang together.   
  
The young couple continued singing to each other, happily twirling and moving across the floor, alone in their one private world.  
  
Bob Lindsay stood across the room, the epitome of a successful, up-and-coming agent of the NSC. His wife, standing next to him, was a very attractive, sophisticated-looking lady, dripping with furs and jewels. Bob was watching Jack closely from his vantage point at the other side of the ballroom.  
  
That old Jack... he's always talking about some intellectual thing or another, commented Bob to his wife. That's his wife, Laura, the woman he's dancing with, he added. Bob saw Jack notice his presence and waved at him.  
  
On the other side of the room, Jack said quietly to his wife, Look, Bob Lindsay's here!  
  
Oh, who cares, Laura whispered, placing a kiss on her husband's cheek. And the cares that hung around me through the week, seems to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak, when we're out together dancing cheek to cheek, she sang quietly into his ear, picking up with the song.  
  
Meanwhile, at the same time, back at Langley, Paul Lindsay was seated in his wheelchair at his desk, with his assistant beside him. An analyst was talking, pointing to reports and diagrams spread out on the desk.  
  
Look, Mr. Lindsay, it's no skin off my nose. I'm just an analyst, started the young man. But you can't laugh off this department of Bristow's any more. Look at it.  
  
The phone rang, and Lindsay picked up the receiver.  
  
Congressman Mokely is here to see you, said the voice of his receptionist.  
  
Oh, tell the congressman to wait, Lindsay told her. Looking back at the analyst, he added, Go on.  
  
Twenty years ago, a half-dozen agents worked here, he pointed to a diagram, at Research and Development. It was a low-budget department that was created by some wishful thinker to manage the invention and development of new ideas for the agency including ops, training techniques, protocol, and so forth. However, in the beginning, it held little weight with the rest of the agency and its recommendations were largely ignored. When some higher-up found out that if the agency had followed the recommendations of Research and Development, $10 million could have been saved, people started to pay attention to Thomas Bristow's brainchild. As the years went by, it became one of the more successful departments to come out of the 50s. Your department, sir, is becoming a joke in comparison to Research and Development. And boy, how the agency is making with those David and Goliath wisecracks!  
  
Oh, they are, are they? Even though they know the Bristows haven't made a dime out of it, Lindsay commented.  
  
You know very well why, responded the analyst. The Bristows were all chumps. Every opportunity to be promoted to a higher rank in the agency, and move beyond the dead-end' position in their department, has been turned down. If I were you, Mr. Lindsay...  
  
Interrupting, Lindsay said, Well, you are not me.  
  
As the analyst stood to leave, he continued, As I say, it's no skin off my nose. But one of these days this bright young man is going to be asking Jack Bristow for a job.  
  
As the analyst exited, Lindsay grumbled, The Bristow family has been a boil on my neck long enough.  
  
He picked up his telephone.  
  
The voice of his receptionist came on the phone, Yes, sir?  
  
Get me Bristow. Get me Bristow now, Lindsay growled.  
  
Back at the hotel, Jack and Laura were talking to Bob Lindsay outside by the curb while he waited for his limo to pick up him and his wife.  
  
We just stopped in town to see my father and so that I could check in with the National Security Council advisor to the President, and then we're going to drive up to our house in the Hamptons, Bob told the Bristows.  
  
Jack said.  
  
Why don't you have your friends join us? asked the blonde woman attached to Bob's side as she stared at Jack.  
  
Why, sure. Hey, why don't you kids drive up with us, huh? asked Bob, who was closely watching Laura.  
  
Oh, I'm afraid I couldn't get away, Bob, explained Jack.  
  
Still got the nose to the old grindstone, eh? he commented. Turning to the woman at his side, Bob said, Jane, I offered to let Jack in on the ground floor of the new business, and he turned me down cold.  
  
Oh, now, don't rub it in, Jack told him.  
  
I'm not rubbing it in, he smiled, which was a sight in itself. Well, I guess we better run along, he continued._  
  
Looks like I've planted the seeds of doubt,_ Bob thought.  
  
There was handshaking all around as Bob and Jane got into their limo.  
  
Awfully glad to have met you, Lauren, said Jane.  
  
Laura glared at her, It's Laura, she informed her. Nice to meet you too, Laura added as an afterthought.  
  
The other woman opened her mouth, most likely to make a nasty comment, when Jack intervened, he said, putting his arm around his wife in an attempt to hold her back.  
  
Goodbye, Jack, Jane whispered, looking him up and down.  
Laura struggled against Jack's arms.  
  
So long, Jack. See you in the funny papers, commented Bob from his seat in the limo.  
  
Goodbye, Bob.  
  
Have fun, added Laura, who, now that the other woman was no longer a threat, was content with her arms wrapped around her husband's waist.  
  
Thanks for dropping by, said Jack.  
  
To the Hamptons! called Bob to the chauffeur.  
  
The big black limousine glided away, leaving Jack standing with his arm around Laura, gazing broodingly after it. They slowly walked over to the parking lot where Jack's old car sat and looked at it silently.  
  
Meanwhile, in heaven, Milo looked over at Joseph questioningly, but the other angel waved his hand, signaling him to wait as the scene changed to the interior of Paul Lindsay's office. Lindsay was lighting a big cigar which he had just given Jack. An indescript assistant stood beside Lindsay's wheelchair, as usual.  
  
Thank you, sir. Quite a cigar, Mr. Lindsay, Jack said.  
  
You like it? They're Cubans; an old friend and contact of mine over there sends them to me, wrapped in a diplomatic pouch. I'll send you a box, he said, a hint of smugness in his voice at _finally_ having something that Jack Bristow wanted.  
  
Ill-at-ease in Lindsay's lair, Jack shifted in his chair nervously, Well, I...I suppose I'll find out sooner or later, but just what exactly did you want to see me about?  
  
Lindsay laughed. Jack, now that's just what I like so much about you, he said pleasantly and smoothly. Jack, I'm an old man, and most people hate me. But I don't like them either, so that makes it all even. You know just as well as I do that I have a part in practically everything in this agency but the Research and Development department. You know, also, that for a number of years I've been trying to get control of it...or kill it. But I haven't been able to do it. You have been stopping me. In fact, you have beaten me, Jack, and as anyone in the government can tell you, that takes some doing. Take during the Pentagon Papers crises, for instance. You and I were the only ones that kept our heads. You saved the Research and Development end of things, and I saved the rest. Except for that fool of a president, of course.  
  
Yes. Well, most people say you stole all the rest, Jack commented, slowly puffing at his cigar.  
  
The envious ones say that, Jack, the suckers, Lindsay responded. Now, I have stated my side very frankly. Now, let's look at your side. Young man, twenty-seven, twenty-eight...married, making, say...four hundred and fifty dollars a week,  
  
Five hundred! Jack said, indignantly.  
  
Five hundred, Lindsay corrected himself. Five hundred. Out of which, after supporting your mother, and paying your bills, you're able to keep, say, a hundred and fifty, if you skimp. A child or two comes along, and you won't even be able to save the hundred and fifty. Now, if this young man of twenty-eight was a common, ordinary agent, I'd say he was doing fine. But Jack Bristow is not a common, ordinary agent. He's an intelligent, smart, ambitious young man--who hates his job--who hates the Research and Development department almost as much as I do. A young man who's been dying to get out on his own ever since he was born. A young man...the smartest one of the crowd, mind you, a young man who has to sit by and watch his friends go places, because he's trapped. Yes, sir, trapped into frittering his life away playing nursemaid to a bunch of new recruits and to a department with no future. Do I paint a correct picture, or do I exaggerate?  
  
Now what's your point, Mr. Lindsay? Jack wondered aloud, mystified.  
  
My point? My point is, I want to hire you.  
  
Dumbfounded, Jack asked, Hire me?  
  
I want you to manage my department, run my ops. Jack, I'll start you out at a hundred thousand dollars a year.  
  
Jack dropped the cigar on his lap. He nervously brushed off the sparks from his clothes.  
  
Flabbergasted, he started, A hundred...a hundred thousand dollars a year?  
  
You wouldn't mind living in the nicest house in town, buying your wife a lot of fine clothes, a couple of business trips to New York a year, maybe once in a while Europe. You wouldn't mind that, would you, Jack? asked Lindsay, his eyebrows raising.  
  
Would I? Jack looked around the office skeptically. You're not talking to somebody else around here, are you? You know, this is me, you remember me? Jack Bristow, Thomas's son?  
  
Oh, yes, Jack Bristow. Whose ship has just come in--providing he has brains enough to climb aboard, Lindsay nodded his head in affirmation.  
  
Well, what about Research and Development?  
  
Oh, confound it, man, are you afraid of success? I'm offering you a position here at a hundred thousand dollars a year, starting today. Is it a deal or isn't it? he demanded.  
  
Well, Mr. Lindsay, I...I ...I know I ought to jump at the chance, but I...I just...I wonder if it would be possible for you to give me twenty-four hours to think it over? Jack looked up, question in his eyes.  
  
Sure, sure, sure. You go on home and talk about it to your wife, he said, waving his hand.  
  
I'd like to do that, Jack nodded.  
  
In the meantime, I'll draw up the papers, continued Lindsay.  
  
All right, sir.  
  
Okay, Jack? Lindsay held out his hand.  
  
Okay, Paul, Jack said, taking the offered hand.  
  
As they shook hands, Jack felt a physical revulsion; Lindsay's hand felt like the cold and clammy hand of Death. After that moment of physical contact, he realized that he never wanted to be associated with Paul Lindsay. Jack dropped his hand with a shudder, peering intently into Lindsay's face.  
  
No...no...no...no, now wait a minute, here! I don't have to talk to anybody! I know right now, and the answer is no! NO! Damnit! Jack shouted vehemently. As he continued, his anger grew exponentially, You sit around here and you spin your little webs and you think the whole world revolves around you and your department. Well, it doesn't, Paul! In the...in the whole vast configuration of things, I'd say you were nothing but a scurvy little spider. You... he trailed off.   
  
Jack stood and turned, yelling at the assistant, impassively standing beside Lindsay's wheelchair, ...And that goes for you too!  
  
As he opened the office door to exit, he shouted at Lindsay's secretary in the outer office, And it goes for you too!  
  
The scene changed once again for the watching eyes of the angels, now showing Jack as he walked up to the front door of his house. Inside the house, Jack trudged up the stairs to the second floor of his house, slowly and methodically moving one foot in front of the other, the trials of his day wearing down on him. Quietly, he turned the doorknob of his bedroom and swung the door open, cursing softly as it creaked. Jack surveyed the room from the door; it was modestly furnished with a cheap bed, a chair, a dresser, a mirror and a small rug.   
  
Sighing, he thought, _What kind of life am I providing for Laura? This isn't fair to her._  
  
Laura was asleep in the bed, curled up in a nest of blankets, her hair splayed across the white pillows. After watching his wife from the door way, finally Jack walked in, his head filled with many confusing thoughts, related to incidents in his past._  
  
You wouldn't mind living in the nicest house in town. Buying your wife a lot of fine clothes, going to New York on a business trip a couple of times a year. Maybe to Europe once in a while,_ echoed the voice of Lindsay.  
  
Jack took off his hat and coat, laying them neatly across the sole chair in the room, and moved over to the dresser and stared at his reflection in the mirror._  
  
Well, if I told you, it might not come true. I guess there's no harm in telling you; I wished that tonight wouldn't end._  
  
While the last memory passed through Jack's mind, his attention was caught by a picture on the wall near the dresser; Laura's sketch of Jack lassoing the moon that had formerly sat in the living room of the apartment she shared with Katie.  
  
Another memory came to him. _What is it you want, Laura? You want the moon? If you do, just say the word; I'll throw a lasso around it and pull it down for you._  
  
The sounds of Jack's movements around the room had awoken Laura,   
who started to sing their favourite Christmas song, I'm dreaming tonight, of a place I love, even more than I usually do...  
  
Jack walked over and stood at the foot of the bed. he whispered.  
  
she responded, sitting up in the bed.  
  
Laura Bristow, why in the world did you ever marry a guy like me? he asked, flopping down on the bed next to her and leaning on his elbows, his chin resting in his hands as he studied his wife.  
  
To keep from being an old maid, she answered with a serious look on her face.  
  
You could have married Bob Lindsay or anybody else in town, Jack said, brushing a stray hair from her face and tucking it behind her ear, his hand returning to her face and tenderly touching her cheek.  
  
A smile spread across Laura's face, I didn't want to marry anybody else in town, she told him. I want my baby to look like you.  
  
You didn't even have a honeymoon, Jack continued, scooping her up and sitting her on his lap. I promised you... he trailed off, as he kissed her neck. His eyes went wide and his head flew up. ...Your what? he asked quickly.  
  
My baby.  
  
Jack was incredulous, You mean...Laura, you're having a baby? My baby? Our baby?  
  
Jack Bristow lassos the stork, she said, turning so that she faced him, watching his face for some sign of a reaction.   
  
Lassos the stork! Jack exclaimed, his eyes lighting up. You mean you...what is it, a boy or a girl? he asked, holding her upper arms.  
  
Laura nodded her head happily.  
  
Jack, shock still apparent on his face, took his wife in his arms and held her close, kissing her first on the forehead, then on her nose, and then on her lips. Turning them around, he laid his wife carefully on the bed, and began to kiss every inch of her body, love radiating from the couple. **  
  
TBC**  
  
Little note: The French that Bill spoke translates to this: Enter, sir, enter, Sir, I hope that you have a good evening, and May you have a busy night. And I did it all myself--studying languages through high school and uni does that to a person!   
  



	11. Chapter 11

Chapter 11:  
  
Joseph cleared his throat and began to narrate the short version of the rest of the events in Jack's life up to the current day.  
  
Now, you've probably already guessed that Jack never leaves his department, said Joseph.  
  
protested Milo.  
  
Laura had her baby, a girl; Sydney Anne Bristow born April 17, 1975, and the Bristow family's joy and happiness was complete. They lived together for six years as a happy little family. And then Laura was Laura no more.  
  
Immediately, Milo's eyebrows knit together and the wheels in his head began turning.   
  
Joseph quickly continued before the other angel could get a word in edgewise, explaining, Turns out Laura was really Irina Derevko, a KGB agent sent to America to obtain sensitive information concerning Project Christmas from one Jonathan Donahue Bristow. Irina was extracted and Laura died in a car accident on a bridge.   
  
Well what about Jack? And the little girl? Did he find out the truth about his wife? asked Milo.  
  
Jack was thrown in solitary confinement for six months under suspicion of treason, as the Agency thought he collaborated with his wife. Eventually they decided he was just a love-sick fool and let him go. But the damage was done, both to Jack and to his relationship with his daughter, Joseph paused, remembering the details he had read in Jack's file about the years after his discovery of his beloved wife's deception. Jack never really was the same after Laura's death. Night after night Jack came back late from the office. He was working himself to death to forget the pain and embarrassment that Laura's betrayal had caused. He began drinking to escape from his life.  
  
Then came SD-6, Milo commented.  
  
Yes, and the recruitment of his daughter, Sydney.  
  
I know this already, whined Milo. I've been watching those silly goofs searching for my artifacts for years now. I must admit though, his face brightened, that Arvin Sloane fellow really has it bad for my work!   
Rolling his eyes for the umpteenth time that day, Joseph sighed loudly.  
  
And Laura...I mean Irina...the Man...the mother of the woman in the prophecy, hey wait, that's Sydney! Now who would've thought that it'd be Jack Bristow's...oh yes, where was I? Well, you know who I mean...she turned herself in to the CIA?  
  
Yes, Irina Derevko turned herself in, and is currently aiding the CIA in its quest to bring down Arvin Sloane and the Alliance, answered Joseph.  
  
Wandering back over to the two angels, God addressed Joseph, Now show him what happened today.  
  
Yes, sir, Joseph replied.  
  
Jack was walking into the JTF Ops Center, his footsteps making a sharp staccato upon the tiled floor. It was a raw and gusty day outside, the perfect weather for Christmas Eve. As always, Jack was clad in his suit of armor, a dark suit, a dark tie, and a dark look upon his face. While younger agents found themselves the Ops center, he marched into the building with only his business on his mind. A few brave agents waved to him and wished him a Merry Christmas, and one handed him a small wrapped package, some guy from Op Tech left it for you.   
  
Joseph's voice rose above the sounds of merriment coming from the other agents, This evening, night before Christmas, about 10:00 P.M. LA time...  
  
Get your head in the game, Bristow, Jack thought to himself as he walked down the long hallway to Irina's cell. Hannibal Lector's own private glass cage, he thought as he stood before the glass, drawing her attention.  
  
She looked up from her book and walked over to the glass walls of her cell. How are your wounds healing? asked Irina, concern vaguely seeping through her veiled eyes.   
  
You obviously had the chance to betray us in Kashmir, but you didn't, Jack stated, his face unemotional and uninterested.  
  
Smiling, she replied, I don't imagine that means you've decided to trust me?  
  
Jack swallowed. Our previous... he paused, dealings would indicate that your strategy here may be long-term. So for now, I trust that your behavior is predictable.  
  
Irina's grin widened, By previous dealings' you mean our marriage? You know, technically, we may still be husband and wife.  
  
The temperature in the room went down 30 degrees with the coldness in Jack's eyes as he glared at her.  
  
I'm sorry, she glanced at him briefly before casting her eyes down, hoping to hide the disappointment that had suddenly and unexpectedly overwhelmed her.  
  
Sydney's on assignment with Sark. It's my belief that he's still working for you, that you've coordinated your efforts to infiltrate both SD-6 and the CIA. Whatever you have in mind, I promise you, it won't work, Jack said plainly and sternly. So I'm going to offer you a deal. I'll see to it that you're relocated to a private residence on Puget Sound, under twenty-four hour surveillance, of course. But the illusion of freedom is better than none at all.  
  
In exchange?   
  
In exchange, you'll confess, tell us what you're really doing here, why you've turned yourself in. I'll give you time to consider my offer, he said, and walked away, his mind in turmoil over her unexpected aside.  
  
A quiet Uh oh! escaped from Milo's mouth, acknowledged by Joseph's saddened face.**  
  
TBC**


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12:  
  
Jack turned on the small lamp sitting on top of his desk, and sat back in his chair. His house was darkened and empty, the silence allowing his thoughts to parade through his mind without end. Another Christmas, and still, the man found himself alone; no presents, no tree, no eggnog, nothing. While his daughter had extended an invitation to spend Christmas Eve with her and her friends, Jack had decided against it, both out of habit and slightly out of anxiety. Irritably, he picked up the phone.  
  
Hello? Dr. Barnett? This is Agent Bristow.  
  
Hello Jack, she said groggily, what can I do for you at this time of night?  
  
He paused, questioning his sanity for the hundredth time since leaving Irina's cell, There's been a development with Derevko.  
  
Oh yes, your ex-wife, the woman's dislike seeped into her voice.  
  
That would be the development; she may not be my ex-wife.  
  
  
  
The marriage may still be intact.  
  
Ah, I see. And how does this make you feel?  
  
Uh, not good, Jack smacked his forehead with his free hand. _That was eloquent, Bristow,_ he berated himself silently.   
  
Go on, encouraged Dr. Barnett.  
  
I don't know what to feel. I can't see what strategic advantage she is trying to gain by playing the marriage card.  
  
Well, Jack, she sighed, vaguely wishing that the man on the other end of the phone would get worked up over her instead, not everything revolves around strategy and game theory.  
  
Jack laughed mirthlessly, We're dealing with Irina Derevko; everything is a game to her. The woman is a sociopath, a criminal mastermind who will take the first opportunity given to betray me...Sydney, that is, again.  
  
The slight slip did not go unheeded by Dr. Barnett, who smiled, What if she isn't looking to betray you and your daughter? What if she has been honest about her motives for being here?  
  
The idea, not new to Jack, left his mind running in circles, yet again.   
  
After listening to silence for a moment, she continued, What if she is trying to find out if her place as Laura has been supplanted by some other woman? What if she is just merely...  
  
Thank you, Dr. Barnett, Jack interrupted and hung up the phone, and unplugged it from the wall.   
  
He sat, idly tapping his fingers as he pondered all possible scenarios and motives that Irina could possibly have.  
  
About twenty minutes later, his doorbell rang, breaking the trance that had descended upon him. Checking his watch, Jack wondered who could possibly be at his door at midnight on Christmas Eve. Surprise briefly showed on his features when he opened to the door to find his daughter, Sydney standing on the steps.   
  
she started, as she stepped through the doorway, why didn't you come over to my apartment tonight?  
  
He sighed, Sydney, I had to be at the Ops center tonight.  
  
_Oh, did you sign up for that shift?_ Sydney thought to herself, _Or did they just know automatically that you'd do anything in your power to avoid spending time with your daughter?_  
  
Is something wrong? he asked, wearily.  
  
Not noticing the stress that emanated from her father, Sydney commented, I should ask the same question of you. What's going on that you called Dr. Barnett in the middle of the night? What's so awful that she called me to ask me to check in on you?  
  
Jack's eyes narrowed, She called you?  
  
Dad, what is it?  
  
He paused, thinking for a moment about what he should tell his daughter.   
  
And tell me the truth, I don't need any more lies in my life.  
  
Jack sighed, wishing once again that his daughter had never entered this life, Well, Sydney, it's about your mother.  
  
What did she do now? Did she break her immunity agreement? Sydney's eyes widened, showing her concern for her mother.  
  
Her reaction not lost on Jack, he continued, Well, you see, she brought it to my attention that our marriage may actually still be intact.  
  
Sydney grinned slightly, You mean all this fuss was just about the fact that you and mom are married?  
  
Jack glared at her.  
  
Oh come on dad, there could be worse things. I mean, you could be married to Barnett, Sydney quickly shut her mouth, shocked that she had actually said that last part aloud.  
  
He wrinkled his nose at the idea of being married to Judy, he admitted.   
  
Then what's the problem?  
  
This brought Jack back to the issue at hand, Your mother is a murderer, she betrayed and abandoned you, she is an enemy of this country. A terrorist. I am married to a terrorist b*tch who ruined countless lives.  
  
Sydney's face became cold, oddly mimicking her father's face, That terrorist b*tch' is my mother.  
  
Your mother died over twenty years ago!  
  
You know what I think, she shouted angrily, I think you loved her so much you lost your soul when she left. That there was nothing left inside you. And now that she's back, you've found out that you still love her more than anything. And that drives you insane. Sydney turned towards the door. Don't bother, she waved her hand, tossing her head angrily, when she saw him stand to see her to the door. I can show myself out, Sydney snapped, walking out of the room, the front door slamming marking her departure.  
  
Jack got up from his seat, fuming at his daughter and the lack of understanding she had for his current predicament with her mother. His pacing continued until he realized that he was going to wear a trench in the hardwood floor. He stopped and glanced over at the hole that he had punched earlier in the plaster of the wall. Sighing, Jack picked up his car keys from the counter and went to his garage.  
  
About fifteen minutes later, Jack found himself parking his car in front of a bar with bright neon signs announcing that he had arrived at He walked in and immediately took a seat at the bar, signaling to the bartender to bring him a glass and a bottle of scotch--the same thing he always ordered when he escaped to the bar. When the barkeep came back, Jack quickly poured himself a glass and tossed back the drink, not taking the time to savor the taste. He poured himself a second glass and settled in for a long evening of trying to numb the pain, confusion and misery that had flooded his stone facade, leaving his heart on his sleeve, bloody and wounded for all to see.  
  
An hour later, Jack slumped over with his head in his hands, an empty bottle perched precariously at the edge of the bar along side his empty glass.  
  
he started to mumble hoarsely, God...Dear Father in Heaven, I'm not much of a praying man, but if you're up there and you can hear me, show me the way. I'm at the end of my rope. Show me the way, God.  
  
He looked upwards, towards the heavens, as if waiting for an answer, when a hand clamped down on his shoulder, causing Jack to whip around, wobbling slightly on his stool.  
  
Sir, I think that it's time for you to go home, said a tall man with indistinct features who was wearing a dark suit.   
  
Who the hell are you to tell me what to do? I'm ol... he slurred, older than you; didn't your mama ever teach you to respect your elders? Jack's speech was notably blurred, mushing his words together.  
  
Agent Bristow, who I am is not important. You have friends in high places looking out for you, responded the other man, who reflected back upon the conversation he had earlier that night with the head of SD-6.  
  
Agent Bristow? Jack stood up sharply. Yes, I do think I'll be leaving now, thank you. He took out his wallet and roughly pulled out a wad of money. Doing so, he noticed a hole in the seams and was surprised to pull out a heavily creased and yellowing photo. A picture of Laura. I say a prayer for the first time in years, and this is what I get? he shouted at the ceiling, waving around the picture angry at the reminder of his troubles. He threw down some money on the counter and stalked out the door, not noticing that he had stuck the photo into his pocket.  
  
When the buzz of discussion about Jack's departure in the bar had lessened, the man pulled out a cell phone from the inner pocket of his jacket, dialed a number, and said, Sir...we found Bristow where you told us he'd be and sent him home. Yes sir, that will be taken care of as well.  
  
Meanwhile, after struggling with his seat belt, Jack pulled away from the curve driving aimlessly and erratically, weaving down a deserted street in the direction of a bridge long forgotten. The darkness of midnight shrouded the street in an unholy cloak of nothingness mixed with the sounds of the pouring rain. The headlights of his black Lincoln, government-issue, pierced through the darkness as he approached a bridge that had long haunted his dreams. Suddenly, he swerved and crashed into a tree near the sidewalk of a house. Jack got out to look at the damage, and savagely kicked at the open door of the car, trying to shut it. The noise brought the owner of the house running out to find the hooligan who interrupted his sleep.   
  
What do you think you're doing? asked the man.  
  
Jack stood unsteadily near his car, shaken by the accident, dully looking at the damage. The front lights were broken and the fender was ripped. The owner came up, looking at his tree, and leaned over to examine the damages.   
  
With indignation, the man shouted, Now look what you did. My great-grandfather planted this tree.   
  
Jack staggered off down the street, paying no attention to the man.   
  
Hey, you... he continued to yell, Hey, you! Come back here, you drunken fool! Get this car out of here!   
  
Jack approached the bridge and slowly slid out on a rusty catwalk used by workers to repair the bridge almost twenty years ago. Stopping by the railing at the center of the bridge, he looked upwards, gazing at the sky while the rain splattered across his face. He stared down at the water, desperate, trying to make up his mind to act. He leaned over, looking at the water, fascinated, and glanced furtively around him. Releasing his grip on the railing, he spread his arms, ready to fall, spread-eagle, into the swirling waters that claimed the live of his years before.  
  
Before he made his move, a body hurtled past Jack and landed in the water with a loud splash. Jack looked down, horrified.  
  
A voice from the river called, Help! Help!  
  
Jack quickly took off his suit jacket and dove into the water, and swam towards the other man who was flailing about in the water.  
  
Help! Help! Help! shouted the man, who in actuality, was Milo.   
  
The guard at the end of the bridge, hearing the cries for help, came running out on the bridge with a flashlight, which he shone on the two figures struggling in the water below.   
  
Moments later, Jack, the guard, and Milo sat inside the toll house for the bridge, that hadn't been used for its original purpose in years. The building currently belonged to a wealthy couple, as it sat next to their driveway. The guard, for the said couple's estate, had generously opened up the building for the two shivering men, and gave each a cup of coffee to help warm them. Jack sat in front of a wood-burning stove, before which his cloths were drying on a line. He sat in his drenched boxers, clutching an old blanket around him as he sipped at the mug of hot coffee, staring at the flames. Cold, gloomy and drunk, Jack ignored Milo and the guard, preoccupied by his near suicide as well as his unsolved problems. Milo stood at the other side of the fire, putting on his undershirt; a ludicrous sixteenth century garment which fell past his knees.  
  
The guard was seated against the wall, eyeing them suspiciously, especially Milo, who noticed this immediately.   
  
I didn't have time to get some stylish underwear. My wife gave me this on my last birthday. I passed away in it, he told the guard, who abruptly stopped, his coffee halfway to his mouth. Oh, the Inferno's drying out, too. You should read the new book Dante's writing now, Milo added while picking up his book and idly shaking it.   
  
The guard stared at him incredulously, Now how exactly did you happen to fall in?   
  
I didn't fall in. I jumped in to save Jack, he explained.   
  
Jack looked up, surprised, You what? To save me?   
  
Well, I did, didn't I? said Milo with a huff, You didn't go through with it, did you?   
  
Go through with what? asked Jack.   
  
  
  
The guard raised his eyebrows and wished for the third time that night that he hadn't left his station, It's against the law to commit suicide around here, he commented.   
  
Yeah, it's against the law where I come from, too,   
  
Where do you come from? the man asked, moving to take a sip of his coffee.   
  
Milo said simply.   
  
The man spit out his coffee. Eyeing Milo and Jack anxiously, he began to back away, deciding to return to the safety of his heated booth.  
  
Milo smiled, and addressed Jack, I had to act quickly; that's why I jumped in. I knew if I were drowning you'd try to save me. And you see, you did, and that's how I saved you.  
  
Jack glanced at the strange smiling little man a second time, Very funny, he said in an offhanded manner.  
  
That picture in your pocket looks like it's pretty important to you, Jack, commented Milo.   
  
Jack reached into his pocket and crumpled the picture, Yeah, it was. But now it's just an miserable reminder of how big a fool I was to think someone'd love me. Found it in answer to a prayer a little bit ago, he mumbled.  
  
Milo turned around and faced Jack, Oh, no, no, no. I'm the answer to your prayer, Jack. That's why I was sent down here.  
  
How do you know my name? asked Jack, feigning casual interest in the other man, still considering the photo clenched in his fist.   
  
Thinking back to The Best of Jack Bristow, which he had just finished watching, he answered, Oh, I know all about you. I've watched you grow up from a little boy.   
  
Jack whipped around and pounced on the other man, grabbing him by his throat and throwing him up against the wall,Who are you? Security Section? SD-6? CIA? NSC?   
  
Oh, no, Milo said, an amused glint shining in his eyes.   
  
Who are you, then? Do you work for The Man?'  
  
Milo Rambaldi, A-S-2.  
  
Jack trailed off before fixing his icy glare back upon the other man. Knocking his head against the wall, he began again, Don't play games with me; you will lose. Who are you? Seconds later, A-S-2...what is that supposed to mean? he demanded, his grip tightening slightly.  
  
Angel, Second Class.  
  
With that, Jack released the other man in shock, backing against the opposite wall and pulling out his gun, eying him critically. Moments later, he settled his gun back in his shoulder holster and ran his fingers through his hair, I shouldn't have been drinking.   
  
He looked over at Milo standing beside him, "Why would you want to save me?"   
  
"That's what I was sent down for. I'm your guardian angel," Milo said with a certain amount of self-satisfaction.   
  
"Isn't it quite fitting for me to have Rambaldi for a guardian angel," Jack remarked, mostly to himself.   
  
Ridiculous of you to think of killing yourself because of your wife. Irina loves you, you know, he added in an offhand fashion.  
  
Bewildered, Jack's eyes were like saucers, She does? His lips twitched upwards, a tiny smile lightening his features before his eyebrows knit together again. An international terrorist who betrayed me and her daughter? Who in their right mind would want that. More importantly, how would you possibly know something like that?  
  
Well first of all, I'm Milo Rambaldi...I know everything. Obviously, I would know about the mother of the woman in my prophecy, he rolled his eyes. And I told you--I'm your guardian angel. I know everything about you.   
  
Assuming that this is all true, and not some delusion, you look about like the kind of an angel I'd get. Sort of a fallen angel. What happened to your wings? Jack asked.   
  
Irritably, Milo spat, I haven't won my wings yet. That's why I'm an angel Second Class.   
  
Jack's lips twisted in a wry smile, I don't know whether I like it very much being seen around with an angel without any wings.   
  
Oh, I've got to earn them, and you'll help me, won't you? he whined.  
  
Humoring him, Jack responded, Sure, sure. How?   
  
By letting me help you.   
  
Only one way you can help me. You don't happen to be able to go back in time?  
  
Milo pondered this, Well, I suppose I could create a device that would allow time-travel, but I'd have to build all of the parts, and then I'd have to write out manuscripts using secret Rambaldi juice, and then I'd have to hide all of the parts across the globe, and then... he trailed off. Wait a second, no. I'm not building you a time-traveling device; I'm not Doc Brown, Marty.  
  
Then there's not much you can do for me, unless you can kill Arvin Sloane.  
  
Oh, tut, tut, tut, Milo said, not my biggest fan.   
  
Then you're no use to me. Seems as though it'd all be easier if I was dead, remarked Jack.  
  
Anxiously, Milo responded, Now look, you mustn't talk like that. I won't get my wings with that attitude. You just don't know all that you've done. If it hadn't been for you...  
  
Jack interrupted him, Yeah, if it hadn't been for me, everybody'd be a lot better off. My daughter, my wife, my friends, everyone. Annoyed with Milo, he added, Look, why don't you go off and haunt somebody else.   
  
No, you don't understand. I've got a task here... started Milo.   
  
Jack pulled out his gun, and the angel shut his mouth.  
  
Milo crossed his arms, irritated at the fact that he was not getting very far with Jack. He began pacing back and forth across the room, glancing up occasionally, mumbling to himself, _Hmmm, this isn't going to be so easy_. Turning towards Jack, he asked, So you still think killing yourself would make everyone feel happier, eh?   
  
A dejected look passed across Jack's face as he thought of his daughter, Oh, I don't know. I guess you're right. I suppose it would have been better if I'd never been born at all.   
  
Milo's eyes widened in surprise, What'd you say?   
  
I said I wish I'd never been born.   
  
Oh, you mustn't say things like that. You... he paused, an idea hitting him. ...Wait a minute. Wait a minute. That's an idea, Milo glanced up towards Heaven, continuing, What do you think? Yeah, that'll do it. All right. He looked back at Jack and said, You've got your wish. You've never been born.   
  
With this, the rain stopped falling outside the building and a strong wind sprung up, blowing open the door, leaving Milo to run over and close it.  
  
He looked upward and shouted, You don't have to make all that fuss about it.   
  
At this, Jack cocked his head curiously, What did you say?   
  
You've never been born. You don't exist. You haven't a care in the world, Milo said, waving his arms about, No worries, no obligations, no wives who were KGB agents coming back from the dead, no Lindsay waiting for his opportunity to throw you in prison.  
  
Jack ran his hand through his hair, _I shouldn't have drank that Scotch,_ he thought to himself.  
  
Your picture's gone, Jack, commented Milo.   
  
He reached into his pocket, and found no sign of the photograph that had irritated him so greatly in the bar.  
  
Thoroughly confused, Jack murmured, What do you know about that...What's happened? He looked around, as though to get his bearings, It's stopped raining out, hasn't it? What's happened here? Jack stood up. Come on, as soon as these clothes are dry... he started.  
  
Putting on a mysterious air, Milo responded, Our clothes are dry.   
  
Jack felt his shirt, So they are, he said, frowning slightly. Now get your clothes on, and we'll walk to my car and get...  
  
Milo started buttoning up his shirt, while Jack stood contemplating his words.   
  
Pressing his lips tightly together, he added, Oh, I'm sorry. I'll walk. You fly.   
  
I can't fly. I haven't got any wings, complained Milo.   
  
You haven't got your wings, Jack said, thinking over the sentence. Yeah, that's right, he added.**  
  
TBC**   



End file.
